Unaffected
by Julie Windred
Summary: Bianca, Chris & Wyatt uncover an ancient evil which reverts time back to what it once was, forcing a replay of history where we get an incite into Bianca's life from her younger years through to ChrisCrossed.
1. Default Chapter

_Disclaimer: Charmed and its inclusive characters are the property of Spelling Entertainment and the writers and creators of the television show Charmed. This story is written for entertainment purposes only and not intended to infringe upon the rights of those that originally created and wrote the characters that feature in it. All original characters and works are my own and permission is required from the author before archiving this story elsewhere._

_Author's Notes: Although Bianca only featured in one episode of Charmed, she was pivotal to the Wyatt/Chris storyline, and with this in mind "Chris-Crossed" has earned a place in a lot of people's hearts and minds and spawned talk of spin-off shows because of the talent of the actors featured. The character of Bianca has captivated me over the past few months, and due to my interest it was requested that I write this fanfic detailing her history so everyone has an opportunity to see the many varied layers of the character and how she works. In doing so, I plan to elaborate on scenes and dialogue featured in the Season Six episode "Chris-Crossed" as well as covering some other aspects that would affect her personality. I hope that you enjoy this story, and feel free to query on things from the show or in the fic that you feel need explaining. I will do my best to incorporate everything that I can. And don't argue the Wyatt/Bianca partnership – I think they're perfect for each other and you all know Chris changed the future, so I can tweak it to my liking. Besides, it leaves Chris nice and available, just the way I like him._

* * *

**UNAFFECTED**

* * *

Bianca felt a small kiss being placed on her forehead, her eyes fluttering open leaving darkness behind for morning light as it radiated through the thin curtains and washed over the bedspread, illuminating the two figures in the room. Thankfully it wasn't too bright for someone who had just roused from sleep, namely her.

"Morning, beautiful."

Tiredly, she rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. Opening them again she smiled as Wyatt straightened, fastening the last few buttons of his shirt. Stretching herself out on the bed languidly she glanced at the clock before looking back to him. His long curly blonde hair was pulled back neatly into a ponytail, and as her eyes travelled downwards she saw that he was already dressed in his best clothes. It was obvious that he'd been up for a while.

"You're dressed up," she commented.

"Today's a special day," he returned.

"It is?"

"Yup."

She watched as he dropped his hands, looking around quickly before spying what he wanted. He walked over to the chair situated against the wall, picking up his leather belt from the soft covering and looping it through his trousers.

"Care to share?" she pressed, seeing as he was offering no further details.

"No," he responded. Shifting a little, she picked up the pillow from where he'd been sleeping and threw it at him. Spying the assailing object just in time, he ducked out of the way letting the pillow fall to the floor nearby. "Hey!"

"Tell!"

"No." He laughed, sitting to pull on his shoes. "Work it out yourself."

Pressing her hand against the mattress she pulled herself up into a sitting position. He lowered himself, completely ignoring her as he tied first one lot of laces and then the other. She shifted back against the headboard, pulling her knees up to her chest as she tried to remember what was so important about today.

"Am I required to be there?" she queried, hoping to get a clue.

"Well it would look odd turning up to an anniversary without my fiancé."

He smiled at the look of panic that then crossed her face. The guilt was starting to set in as she tried to remember which of their anniversaries she'd forgotten.

Standing, he came over to her. Placing his hand on her right cheek and lifting her face a little, he bent down and kissed her softly. Closing her eyes as she kissed him back, she almost completely forgot what they had been discussing. Only the slight tension in her body told her something was a little wrong. Her mind quickly following up on the rest of her as Wyatt began to break away; she remembered she'd forgotten an anniversary.

"Mom and dad's," Wyatt informed her as he drew back. She quickly relaxed; a relieved smile on her face.

"You're evil," she said, seeing that he was enjoying tormenting her.

"I know."

"When do we have to be there?"

"Just for breakfast. I've got a case I have to work on after that."

"So I don't get to see you today then?"

"Later. Very much later," Wyatt answered. She pouted. "But I can't wait that long, so I'll see you for lunch."

"And breakfast?"

"You have ten minutes."

"Wyatt!" she exclaimed, knowing that was an impossible amount of time to get ready in.

"Sorry," he apologised, smiling sheepishly. "I like watching you sleep."

"Yah huh, you also like watching me run around like mad to get ready."

"Better hurry then, clock's ticking," he stated as she crawled off the bed, waiting for her to make her way across the floor before he said any more. "Need me to help?"

She froze inside the doorway, composing herself for a moment as she took in what he'd just said. Putting on her most serious face she glanced back at him over her shoulder.

"No," she said, seeing the mischievous look in his eye. Leaving the room she called back to him: "If you wanted to 'help' you should have got me up earlier."

Seated on the bed, his hands clasped in his lap, Wyatt couldn't help but smile at her comment. He lowered his head, as if to hide his expression, and waited for her to return.

* * *

"Thank you, Chris," Bianca said as he pulled out the chair for her, masterfully guiding it in as she sat down. "At least someone has some manners."

She cast her gaze over to Wyatt. His expression was indifferent, but as he picked up a napkin and violently flicked it out she could see he was not so happy with her jibe. Biting his lip tempestuously she could see he was doing everything in his power to restrain himself from sniping back at her. She reached her hand out towards his, squeezing it gently.

"Baby," she said softly, almost apologetically.

"Don't," he warned, stopping himself short. "I'm trying to be civil here. You're not helping by pushing my buttons."

Something changed behind her eyes as she considered arguing with him, but knowing where they were and what his point was she knew it wouldn't be the smartest idea for them to start a fight during someone else's celebrations. Nor would it look good if she started to create a scene. Quickly she looked down. Wyatt, seeing he had hurt her feelings more than he'd intended to, gently rubbed his thumb over the back of her fingers.

"Let's not do this today, okay?" he said softly. "I barely see you enough as it is. There are better things to do with our spare time than snipe at each other."

She lifted her eyes, forcing a smile as she looked at him. The smell of food was rife through the air and her vision was soon occupied as a plate of cooked bread appeared under her nose.

"Toast?" Paige asked, holding up the tongs. Bianca turned her head to look up at her. "Not just any ordinary toast, but French Toast. Feel like indulging a little?"

Bianca tilted her head a little as she looked back down at the plate Paige held before her. She heard the clatter of more dishes as Phoebe began laying out the dining room table with an assortment of other delicious appetizers as well.

"Go on," Wyatt said encouragingly. "You don't eat now, I won't treat you later."

This time her smile came more easily and she nodded. Paige lifted two pieces from the large plate and placed them on the smaller one set out in front of Bianca. She looked down at it, still unsure whether she'd be able to eat that much. She never had much of an appetite in the morning.

One of Wyatt's little cousins came running into the dining room then, making circles around her Aunt Paige before finally stopping with a crash against Bianca's chair. Bianca turned her head, looking down at her as she placed her little hands on Bianca's leg.

"Hey there," she said, her voice trilling in a musical lilt, the kind that adults always used on little kids.

"Mel, honey, stop that," Phoebe called out, seeing her daughter running riot.

Leo came through the door behind her, scooping Mel up off the floor and carrying her around to Phoebe.

"C'mon squirt. Time to stop playing and start behaving for mommy," Leo said as Phoebe took the little girl from him and sat her on her lap.

"Feeling hungry?" Phoebe asked. The little girl nodded.

"Hey cutie," Piper said as she came back into the room, lightly touching Mel's face as she passed. She took a seat at the table situated close to Phoebe. "So where are the other munchkins? Your magnificent husband taken them to school, has he?"

"Isn't he a darling?" Phoebe agreed. "He actually offered to do it on his way to work this morning. Completely surprised me! But he knows it's important to spend time with my sisters, especially on those celebratory days where we often get a little…" She lowered her voice, although knowing that it wouldn't surprise anyone with what she said. "Interference."

"School? Oh, that reminds me," Paige said, waving the tongs around in her hand as she paused midway up the table and stopped serving. "I really hope this isn't going to take to long. I can't hang around too long because I have to get to school, and you do realise what a bad impression that would make if the teacher was late to class."

She winked and Piper smiled. "Yes, I know. That's why this is only a breakfast thing. Wyatt has somewhere else to be today too."

"How is Amanda?" Leo asked, his arms folded on the table as he leant closer to Wyatt.

"How did you know it was Amanda?" Wyatt asked.

"Because when you're overly distracted and I can see your brain working overtime, I know you're trying to come up with a new solution in handling her."

Wyatt smiled, knowing his father was right. "She's doing okay. Still a little rebellious, but you know most runaways are. She should listen more. She's too uncaring. I think she actually likes frustrating me."

"You have to be patient with her," Leo said. "That's all you've got to do. She'll come through in the end."

"I'm quite aware of that. I'm just waiting for that first big breakthrough. Things will be a whole lot simpler then. Much less hectic." Wyatt looked towards Bianca, hoping she was listening in. Instead she seemed to be picking at the food in front of her, oblivious to any of the conversations going on.

"People, can I have your attention?" Chris asked, standing with glass in hand. They all looked up towards him, Paige taking a seat and picking up her own. "I just have to say how wonderful my parents are. They've been together for so long, through unimaginable difficulties, most of those to the degree which no other person has ever had to face. Their marriage is truly blessed, their lives not ideal but definitely memorable, and their kids," He smiled, giving them a wink. "Well I can't say they're anything but perfect. I can only hope our quest for an equally enduring love will succeed as well as yours has, although I think this one doesn't have to worry," He said, tossing his head back towards Wyatt. Glancing over to Bianca he smiled and nodded his head upwards in acknowledgement of her.

"All the best for the future, mom and dad," Wyatt added, lifting his glass.

"And many more happy years to come," Phoebe added.

"Here, here," Paige agreed, raising her glass.

They all raised their glasses - clinking them together, and sipping their prospective liquids from them. Eagerly they all dug into the food, a hustle bustle of activity around the table as they tried to fill their stomachs and, for some, to finish in time before their departure.

"Okay, I better get going," Paige said, brushing her hands as she finished. "If you need me you know where I'll be."

Piper made a move to clean up the plates, but Phoebe was quicker, standing and handing her young daughter over to Piper so she couldn't stand up.

"Oh no you don't. This is your special day, no work for you. I'll do the dishes. Just keep an eye on Mel for me, okay?" Phoebe requested, loading all the plates together into one pile.

"Sure," Piper said, smiling. She shifted Mel in her lap, playfully pressing her nose. "So what did you and Uncle Leo get up to?"

Chris, seeing Paige getting up to leave, hurriedly finished his breakfast and tossed the plate towards Phoebe. Paige began making her way towards the door and he followed her, finally catching her arm.

"Paige, Aunt Paige, wait," he said. Glancing around at the others, he pulled her just outside the doorway, finally letting go of her as his eyes drifted downwards. Shoving his hands in his pockets he shifted his feet uncomfortably. "I'm sorry I have to ask you this again, but I'm not getting paid until next week and I, uh, kind of ran out of money. I promised Sam I was going to take her to the movies Friday. Could you…?"

"You want money for the movies again," Paige finished calmly. "Chris, you don't have to act all coy about it. You do this to me all the time. It's a wonder your mother hasn't found out yet."

"I know. I promise I'll pay you back. As soon as I get a chance I'll come see you."

Paige smiled and shook her head. "Don't worry about it. You know you owe me big time though. Come to think about it that could come in handy if I ever need your help with something." Seeing the panicked look on his face she laughed. "Don't think like that, it's not going to be severe." She pulled some change out of her purse and handed it over to him. "There you go. Have fun, okay? Now I really have to go, I can't be late or I'll be severely punished, and then you'll be in trouble."

"Okay," he agreed, stepping aside and closing his fingers over the wad of notes in his hand. He turned to call after her: "Later!"

As he came back into the room he saw that Wyatt was also leaving. He passed him on his way back to his seat. Wyatt waved quickly to the others, saying hurried goodbyes, walking over to his mother and kissing her on the cheek. He ruffled Mel's hair, said a quick goodbye to his father, and made a hasty exit towards the door, grabbing Bianca's hand on the way. They stopped by the front door of the manor and he took both her hands in his.

"You do know where to wait for lunch, don't you?" he queried.

"Yes," she answered, a smile playing on her lips.

"I'm not going to have to force you to eat?" he questioned further.

"No. I'm sure I'll have worked up an appetite by then."

She looked up at him, taking in every feature on his face, trying to commit him to memory knowing it would be the last she would see of him today or at least for a few hours. She stared the longest at his eyes, seeing the mixture of both love and concern in them. She changed her grip in his hands as he bent down to her height, leaning in and kissing her goodbye.

"You better be there," she said playfully as he pulled back.

"You better be hungry," he returned.

"I just said I would, didn't I?" she said with a laugh.

"Make me believe you," he challenged.

She bit her lip, looking up at him. She always took him up on his challenges, but she knew if she did this time he wouldn't leave. Wrestling her hand loose from his grip she raised it to his face.

"Baby I could spend all day trying and I know you'd still use it as an excuse not to go." She brushed her thumb over his lips and looked at him tenderly, her eyes crossing his face once more. "And if you stay here for much longer taunting me with that handsome face of yours, I'm not going to let you." She moved her hand around to the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him again, her face lingering close to his for a few moments before she completely pulled away. "Now go."

He opened the front door, watching her as he did so. Picking up his belongings he quickly left. She took the handle into her hand, closing it behind him. Turning, she collapsed back against the door, resting her head against it as she looked up to the ceiling, thinking about how long it would be until she saw him again, feeling that small piece of her hollow inside and missing that she knew only felt misplaced when Wyatt wasn't around. Sighing she lifted herself back off the door, folding her arms and making her way back into the dining room.


	2. Chapter 2

Wyatt sat atop the brick divide watching a tall girl in a sleeveless red shirt as she bounced the basketball a few times and threw it towards the net that hung over the top of the garage. She wore a white cap backwards on top of her head. Her medium length blonde hair was fastened back into a ponytail and poked out from underneath the hat. The two of them had been talking for a while, but Amanda seemed reluctant to do anything except play basketball all morning.

"You'd get along great with PJ," Wyatt commented. Amanda caught the ball, holding it in her hands as she looked over to him.

"PJ's your cousin, right?" Amanda asked. Wyatt nodded. Amanda turned her attention back towards the net and threw the ball. "Sure, I know her. Seen her around with that boyfriend of hers."

"Justin."

"No, Aleks," Amanda said, watching the ball as it bounced back towards her. She scooped it back into her hands, bouncing it until it was directly in front of her, lifting it back into her hands as she noticed Wyatt had suddenly gone silent. She looked over to him and saw the puzzled expression on his face. Amanda's own lit up as she casually returned to her game. "Oh, you don't know? Well no wonder she's hiding it from you all. He's like the resident bad boy – carries around darklighter arrows and stuff. I think she's going through that rebellious phase."

This time Amanda made a stylistic jump as she threw the ball towards the net, watching it arc perfectly through the air as it went straight through the hoop. She heard Wyatt chuckle softly in the background.

"Listen to you talking about phases," he said. Amanda caught the ball as it returned to her and looked over to him curiously. "You're really one to talk." She shrugged, returning to her game as if she wasn't listening to him at all. "Considering a career in psychology?"

"Maybe," Amanda replied indifferently.

"So what happened with Justin? It seems you know more about my cousins than I do these days."

"She dumped his ass," Amanda answered. She threw the ball again. It hit the backboard and bounced back to her. "Don't get me wrong, Justin's a great guy. All witch. Much better than a hybrid of any sorts." She glanced at Wyatt quickly. "No offence. But he was really torn up over it. He's moving to Santa Monica in June. Says he needs to be somewhere he can get his head right and not think about her."

"I see," Wyatt said, watching the ball as it sailed through the air again. Once more it hit the backboard and returned to her. "I don't suppose you're getting tired of that?"

"Nope."

"Want to take me on?" he queried.

"You?" she scoffed. "In those clothes? Didn't think you'd want to get your pristine gear dirty."

"Not really, but I can fix that," Wyatt said, jumping off the wall. He undid the buttons on his shirt, pulling it off and tucking it into the back of his belt. Amanda stared at the muscles that rippled across his body, her mouth almost dropping open at the sight. For the first time, the ball stayed glued to her hands for more than just a few seconds.

"You… you aren't allowed to do that, are you?" she stammered.

"What?"

"This," she waved her hand up and down his body. "Isn't that, like, breaking a rule in the codebook or something?"

Wyatt laughed, shaking his head. "We're just playing basketball." He knocked the ball out of her hands, running away with it as he bounced it across the concrete surface, finally leaping up just beneath the hoop and dunking it in. "You really should be keeping your eye on the ball. That's another problem of yours; you get too distracted with other things. You lack focus."

Amanda put her hands on her hips as she looked at him, watching him collect the ball as it bounced away. He brought it back, standing a little away from her, bouncing it steadily as he watched her reaction. He could see she was annoyed now. He hoped he was getting through to her.

"What gives you the right to say that?" she finally questioned.

"Need you ask?" he returned.

Her gaze dropped from him to the ball he was bouncing in his hands. She rushed forward, trying to grab it away from him, but he was too quick and circled around her, his back to her as he effectively blocked her from her snatching attempts. Again he was able to turn her right around so that he had an easy shot at the basket, leaping up and for the second time depositing it through the hoop.

"You're lagging," he said.

"You're pissing me off," she whinged.

"Now you know what kind of frustration you cause me," Wyatt said as he collected the ball once more.

Again he was trying to turn her around, but this time she caught on to what he was doing and managed to slip her arm under his, effectively stealing the ball away.

"How do you like that?" she teased as she backed away from him. "You don't get to be in control anymore."

"You think I have control issues?"

"When you're in charge of someone, there's always a control issue," Amanda replied smartly.

"Speaking from experience?"

"Knowledge," Amanda said, rushing forward as she tried to get past him. Leaping for the basket he pulled her back down. She grumbled as he set her back on the ground. "You're not allowed to do that! You have to play fair!"

"And you have to listen, Amanda. I'm trying to help you here."

She threw the ball roughly at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. "Your ball."

This time she decided to stand idly by and see what he was doing. Noticing her reluctance to participate now, Wyatt stood before her bouncing the ball from one hand to the other, taunting her, trying to get her involved again. He was making it simple for her. He wanted her to take the bait. She still didn't move.

"I thought you weren't tired," he teased.

"I'm not," she replied defiantly.

"Well you're starting to look it."

"I just feel like doing something else."

"Scared of losing?"

"No."

"Well what do you want to do?" Wyatt asked, turning around and pausing for a moment as he aimed for the basket. He crouched down a little, preparing to jump, when he felt a foot in his back. The next thing he knew the ball was gone from his hands and he was on the ground. He lay there for a minute, reconstructing what had happened, and then slowly pushed himself up from the ground, turning his hands and seeing the grazes on them from where he'd stopped his fall.

"How about martial arts?" he remembered hearing Amanda say on his way down. Now she was collecting the basketball as it rolled away.

Gently brushing his hands he stood up, watching as she came back to him, a smirk on her face. He shook his head at her, wrenching the ball from out of her hands. He'd had enough of being patient with her, if she was going to resort to such tactics as these he wasn't going to try anymore.

"Is none of this sinking in?" he shouted at her. She looked at him surprised, if not a little scared that he had asked with such force in his tone. "I spend day after day trying to help you out, and you have so little respect for me that you'd just kick me to the ground? You don't care about any of this? Well guess what, Amanda, you don't get a choice. This is the way things are. You have to start compromising. You can't play by your own rules anymore."

"Why not? You do!" she retorted. He drew back, his eyes darkening as he looked down at her.

"You have to be an adult when it comes to this. Being an adult means you have to accept responsibility. You don't even want to accept it for yourself let alone for anyone else." Remembering his father's advice, Wyatt tried to restrain his temper before he said or did something he shouldn't. "I'm being easy on you. If anyone else was looking after you you would have had much worse by now. A lot of people aren't as considerate or understanding as I am. Just think about that." He looked at his watch. "Now I'm going to give you an hour, and then I'm coming back."

"Where are you going?" she asked, taking the ball as he handed it back to her.

"I'm going to lunch, and to visit someone a little more pleasant than you," Wyatt answered.

She waited until he was a safe distance away before she said anything. Wyatt stopped at the end of the driveway as she called out to him, the ball still safely gripped in her hands.

"Don't get too frisky," she teased. He looked at her curiously, wondering how she knew who he'd meant. "I know I'm too time-consuming for you. She must be getting jealous by now."

Wyatt left without saying a word. He wasn't going to indulge her with any kind of talk about Bianca. His body was tense enough after trying to deal with her in that short amount of time, and he wasn't going to stay any longer to involve himself in more frustrated arguments with her.

* * *

Bianca sat on the banks of Golden Gate Bay, her knees drawn up as she looked out across the water. The sun was quite high in the sky, signifying that they were part-way through the day, and the heat was stilled by the cool breeze that blew softly across her shoulders and through her hair. She watched as various birds flew by, some ducking down into the water to capture their next meal, or just to splash about. She smiled as she watched them, wishing she could enjoy the same amount of fun and freedom that they seemed to have. Turning her wrist slowly she looked at the Phoenix symbol on her left arm. Another bird, but this image meant she was chained to her past, to the legacy of her kind. There was no freedom in that. And even though she had tried to escape them, she knew they would always be looking for her, watching her, trying to bring her back into the fold. 

The steady silence was soon interrupted by the whir of loud machinery across the bay. Not far from the base of the Golden Gate Bridge she could make out the shapes of cranes and bobcats burrowing into the ground. Turning her head away as the breeze whipped her hair into her face, she saw movement somewhere off to the side behind her. Wyatt eventually emerged, a basket in hand, climbing steadily down the incline and dropping the basket down beside her. She looked from the basket back up to him curiously.

"You had time to make lunch?" she queried.

"Wish I did," he responded. "Let's just call this my collection from the shop nearby."

Bianca turned her head back towards the water, brushing her hands up to her shoulders and resting her chin on her arms.

"We should come here more often. It's quiet," she said absently. Glancing back towards the noisy machinery she added: "Well, almost."

She could feel him reach out towards her, his hand stroking gently down her hair from the back of her head to between her shoulder blades. It was comforting, and a warm reminder to why she liked having him around.

"Something wrong, baby?" he queried.

"No," she replied, lifting her head.

"Want to see what I brought you?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, dropping her knees and turning herself to face him as he rustled through the basket and began pulling things out.

"On today's menu we have fruit, fruit, fruit, and in case you thought I'd forgotten, a wide selection of fruit."

Bianca grinned, watching him pull out an assortment of peaches, oranges, strawberries, grapes, just about every fruit imaginable from their secluded positions in the basket, laying them on the blanket he'd set out upon arrival.

"Well at least we're being healthy," she said jovially.

"I couldn't actually find anything other than a greengrocer on the way here," Wyatt explained.

She touched his face lightly. "Baby, it's fine. You know I'll eat it."

"I wouldn't want it to go to waste, that's all," he said, looking down at the assortment he'd brought.

"Watch me," she said, winking. She picked a grape from the bunch and popped it into her mouth. She chewed briefly and swallowed quickly. "See, that's gone, but you have to share with me."

"I can do that," he said. He picked up one of the strawberries, holding it out to her, pulling back slightly so that she only was able to bite the very end. "A little for you, a little for me."

He ate the rest quickly. She watched him enviously, taking another and eating it herself. As she looked across what was spread there she decided to try getting a little revenge for herself. She picked up another strawberry, holding it out to him teasingly.

"I'm sure you want this," she goaded.

He moved forward a little and she pulled her hand back. He stopped, looking at her roguishly, turning his attention back to the strawberry and moving forward again. This time she pulled her hand right back to her shoulder, Wyatt leaning so far forward that she had very little choice but to lie back down on the ground if she was going to continue to play this game. She smiled up at him as he leant on his hands over her, looking down on her once again.

"I don't think I want that anymore," he said.

"Can't I even tempt you?"

"Not really," he answered, his eyes not leaving hers.

Lovingly he brushed the hair from her face. She squinted up at him, his head barely blocking the glare of the sunlight as it beat down on them. Gently lowering himself he kissed her, the rest of the world fading away in her immersion. Her fingers slowly opened, letting the strawberry roll away as she lifted her hand almost subconsciously to place it against the back of his head, the other snaking around to the mid-section of his back as she held him closer. Her hand slid down his neck, her fingers trailing along his shoulder as he pulled back slightly giving them enough room to breathe. Bianca turned her head quickly as a sound carried across the breeze to her ears, one which she found rather disturbing, and Wyatt's next kiss fell on her cheek.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Don't know. Ignore it," Wyatt responded hastily, nuzzling into her neck.

"Wyatt, no, seriously," she said, pushing against him. "That sounded like someone screaming. We can't just leave it alone."

Wyatt lifted his head. Looking back out in that direction he spied a stream of blue orbs depositing themselves at the top of the bridge.

"Looks like someone's already up there," Wyatt said to Bianca, tossing his head in the bridge's direction.

For the first time Bianca noticed that the machinery had gone quiet. She looked uncertainly in that direction. There didn't seem to be any movement across the bay.

Wyatt slid back from her, climbing to his feet and offering her a hand to help her up. She felt the roughness of his palm against her hand as she took it and, once standing, she turned his hand over, reaching out to lift up and turn the other as well. His palms were marked with grazes.

"What happened to your hands?" she asked, looking up into his eyes with concern.

"It's nothing. She just got a little rough with me," he explained. She let go of his hands, stepping in closer and peeling away the collar of his shirt. He ignored her inspection, instead putting his arms around her. "C'mon, let's go see who's up there."

Orbing out they reappeared on top of the Golden Gate Bridge, Wyatt glancing up to see his brother seated on one of the pylons, staring out at the sky as the wind whipped his hair about. He let go of Bianca and walked over to him.

"Why am I not surprised?" Wyatt questioned. "What are you doing here, Chris?"

"Thinking," Chris answered, remaining as stationary as he had been on their arrival.

"About Sam?" Wyatt queried. A smile broke onto Chris' face.

"That would be a nice thought, but no." He turned his head down to look at Wyatt. "Money issues again."

"Well if you stopped spending so much on her, you wouldn't have so little funds," Wyatt reprimanded. "Look at Bianca, I don't need to spend anything on her, and she's still with me."

Wyatt waved his hand back towards Bianca. Speedily she moved up to him, hitting him with the back of her hand. Wyatt feigned injury from the blow. Chris smirked at the both of them before returning his attention to the bay.

"You better be joking about that," Bianca said to Wyatt. He smiled, pulling her in close to him.

"You're just low maintenance, aren't you baby?" he said teasingly. She looked at him bitterly. He rested his forehead against hers, tightening his hold on her. "You know I spoil you less to surprise you more."

Her eyes downcast she nodded, Wyatt lifting his head back to look up at Chris again. "See anything weird from up there?"

"Yeah the construction seems to have stalled down there. Kinda odd," Chris answered.

"That's what I thought," Bianca agreed. "They didn't start all that long ago, they wouldn't be taking another break already."

"Well, I don't know about that," Chris said, smiling down at her. "Some crews can be kind of lazy."

"Even so…" Wyatt said slowly, turning away from Bianca to look out over the edge. Bianca raced forward to the base of where Chris was, placing her hands against the foundation as she stared up at him.

"I heard something just seconds ago," she said. "There was a scream coming from down there. Now it's all quiet. We should go check it out."

"Well it did get a little silent when I arrived," Chris pondered aloud. He looked over to Wyatt. "Think we should go down?"

"If you're both in agreement, then I'll come with you," Wyatt said. Bianca nodded quickly, walking back to him and taking his hand.

They orbed down just inside the mesh barrier that surrounded the construction site, sealing the worksite off from the prying eyes of passer-bys. They had indeed been working hard, unearthing a great deal from the ground. The hole was quite large. Chris shifted his way down the sharp incline, trying to keep his balance by placing a hand against the dirt path. Wyatt took to wandering curiously between the empty machinery, peering in through open windows and doors to see that most of the machinery was still running with a low hum, but that the place was completely empty. Bianca stood where she was, her arms folded as she watched Wyatt pass from one machine to another. She heard Chris cry out as he stumbled down the last of the incline.

"Chris, be careful!" she shouted after him.

"I'm down here now," Chris called back up. "You don't have to warn me."

"This is getting weirder and weirder," Wyatt commented, shaking his head as he came back to Bianca. He walked up to the edge looking down at Chris. "Anything unusual down there?"

Chris shrugged. "Looks like an archaeological site. It's a dump – stuff lying about everywhere. It's like they didn't care, they just dropped everything and ran off."

"Or disappeared," Bianca added quietly.

Wyatt took her hand and she walked over to the edge, gingerly stepping down onto the incline. Wyatt followed as they both climbed down, trying to help Bianca balance ahead of him, trying to keep his own balance so he wouldn't knock the both of them down. Chris watched them as they slid towards the bottom, taking a step forward to catch Bianca before she stumbled at the base. She turned to help Wyatt also, but he seemed to have things under control as he leapt down next to her. Chris turned his attention back to the ground before them, looking around briefly before spying something that caught his interest. Slowly he drifted away from the other two as he went to investigate.

Bianca took a few steps in, looking around. She noticed Wyatt leave her side as he traipsed through what had been left behind, inspecting them to see if there had been any damage – blood or scorch marks were two key signs that would have been easy to spot. She chewed on the tip of her thumb nervously as she watched him. She could see the bewilderment on his face as, yet again, everything he looked at was untouched, discarded, and without a trace of evidence to even remotely suggest what had happened. Glancing over to Chris she could see his attention was completely consumed by something on or in the ground as he made lazy circles around it, stopping every now and then to take a closer look. She followed him over, stopping by what looked to be some kind of dark leathery material that almost camouflaged into the dirt itself. Crouching down, she stretched out her hand and touched it, feeling the folds that were indeed as thick as leather. Something shifted under her hand and she pulled back quickly, holding it with the other as if she'd just been bitten. Watching closely and seeing nothing move she put it all down to simple imagination, her eyes simply playing tricks on her because she expected more than what was there.

Chris stopped again, kicking the dirt away with his foot to reveal more of the dark material. As Bianca joined him, Chris' foot suddenly uncovered more than dark material. Whatever it was it looked like some pale milk-white substance. Bianca knelt again, leaning forward on her hands to peer in without touching it so she could take a closer look. Chris kicked a little more away, turning to pick up a discarded pick and using it to prod the surface. The dirt shifted and the leathery parts rolled further away. Bianca suddenly found her hands on the milky surface. Standing quickly she backed up.

"What is that?" she asked.

Chris looked over what had been revealed. It was circular, and large, stretching approximately five metres in diameter.

"An eye," Chris determined.

"An eye?" Bianca shrieked. She glanced at her hands, immediately wiping them on her pants. "Oh gross and I touched it!"

Wyatt came over to see what all the commotion was about. He instantly wrapped an arm around Bianca, pulling her back towards him as he saw the ugly specimen that lay before them. The eye was fully open now.

"Chris," Wyatt warned as he saw his younger brother about to prod it again. Chris glanced up at him then slowly pulled his arm back. Bianca turned her head away and Wyatt brushed his free hand over her face. "I don't like the look of that."

"I want to know what it's here for. Or even what it is," Chris said as he looked at it. Again he turned his head up to look at Wyatt. "Do you think it has anything to do with what's happened here?"

"I wouldn't argue it," Wyatt said.

Bianca pulled her head away from Wyatt and looked at the eye again. "Whatever it is, it's giving me the creeps. I don't think we should hang around here much longer."

"Bianca's right," Wyatt agreed. "We don't know what it can do. It wouldn't be safe to toy with it any longer, I think we've disturbed the site enough as it is."

"I think I'm going to go look it up in the Book of Shadows," Chris said. He was staring at it again, captivated and fascinated by the ugly being.

"Do that," Wyatt instructed. "I have to get back anyway. My break's long over. And you…" He slid his hand around Bianca's waist as he circled her, stopping in front of her and looking down into her eyes. "You go do what you should be doing instead of waiting around for me all the time."

"Wyatt," Bianca complained.

"Bianca," he said sternly. She dropped her shoulders, giving in to him. He lifted her chin, looking in her eyes for a moment, and then gently kissed her forehead. "Let's go collect lunch. And Chris, don't hang around here too long, okay?"

Chris agreed. Wyatt orbed back to the bank of Golden Gate Bay with Bianca to gather what they'd left behind. Chris orbed out not long after, heading back to the house to find out what he could about the eye.


	3. Chapter 3

Wyatt tiredly dragged his feet along the floor as he walked up the hallway. It was late now, later than he had expected to get home. He had to admit he was slightly annoyed about that. Amanda had made promises to improve her behaviour, and still they kept ending up back at square one. So yet again he found himself practically babysitting an ignorant brat who refused to listen to him. He heard a clap of thunder outside and wearily lifted his head. The door to the bedroom was only slightly ajar. He pushed against it, keeping it steady with the other hand so as not to make any noise. What little light there was shining into the room only just succeeded in spilling over the window frame. The rest of the room lay in darkness.

As he heard the rain begin to pour down outside he saw the curtain blowing in, swelling up around a great puff of wind. If Wyatt didn't know any better he would have thought someone was standing behind it with the enormity of the form.

He heard the rain smattering against the window outside as he inched closer to the bed, peeling off his clothes as he went. Down to his boxers he collapsed onto the edge, lifting his feet and sinking his head down into the pillow, listening to the rain outside. He noticed Bianca tossing and turning beside him, moaning softly. He turned his head and looked at her with concern.

"B, you awake?" he whispered. She moaned again and he lifted his head a little. What she was saying was becoming more audible now.

"No, don't. Stay away. Don't come near me," she murmured.

Wyatt shifted himself onto his side, propping his head up with his hand as he watched her. She began pushing at the covers, her vocalisations getting louder. Feeling compelled to pull her out of her nightmare he reached over her and grabbed her upper arm, shaking her gently.

"Bianca, wake up. It's just a bad dream," he said.

He was surprised when she roughly pushed him away. Caught up in her own state of delusional unconsciousness, she didn't even seem aware of what she was doing.

"Go away! I don't want to. I don't want to do this. Just leave me alone!" she shouted.

Wyatt looked up and down her body quickly. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't grab her shoulder again, not with her arms flailing about. Shifting closer to her he placed his hand against the side of her face, trying to still her at least a little.

"No," she mumbled again, trying to move away. He kept steady, not allowing her any room to thrash about on the bed anymore.

"C'mon, B. Open your eyes," he coaxed, trying to keep himself calm.

She tried to move again. He knew he had to do something to try and bring her out of this, and he wasn't about to hit her. He leant in, pressing his lips against hers, drawing back and hoping against all hope that it would work. He didn't have to wait long, only seconds later she inhaled sharply, her eyes flying open and her body rising towards him. She burst into tears as soon as she saw him, her body crumpling back against the bed.

"Hey, hey," he said as she squeezed her eyes closed, the tears flowing down her face. He took her shoulder again and pulled her towards him, letting her burrow herself into his chest. Slowly he stroked the back of her hair, gently kissing the top of her head. "Ssh, it's okay. You're safe. They're not after you. It's okay."

He knew she'd had nightmares about this kind of thing before, but nothing as terrifyingly traumatic as what he'd just witnessed. She'd never been effected to this degree before. Her body wracked with sobs, she continued to shake against him as he held her tightly, trying to soothe her with calming words and a gentle touch. Despite his fatigue, Wyatt stayed awake for as long as he could to watch over her. He was determined to protect her, even though he knew he couldn't defend her from her inner demons. Her sobbing receded into sniffles as she lay there with her eyes open. She didn't speak, and he didn't push her too, instead listening to the rain beat down on the window outside. She was so close to him he could feel every breath she took, every muscle that moved. Eventually he felt her eyelashes brush softly against his skin as she closed her eyes again, her breathing more laboured as she drifted back to sleep. Kissing the top of her head again, he shifted himself into a more comfortable position, laying his head back, sleep soon pulling him away from reality as well.

Sinking deep into slumber, the darkness immersed him into torturous dreams of his own. Scenes of bloody mayhem and death by his hand; Excalibur a weapon of affliction by his side. Briefly he thought he spied Bianca, and then Chris who was looking more than a little annoyed with him. But it was the anarchy that prevailed most, and that feeling that he was actually enjoying it.

The sound of rain ringing in his ears, he could feel it falling on him, his hair plastered to his face with the dampness, the drops rolling off the bridge of his nose and dripping from his chin into the pool that was emerging around his ankles. He noticed now he was in a hole, or rather an almost complete grave. Shovel in hand he glanced up as a voice called down to him.

"Wyatt! What are you doing?" Bianca shouted.

He could see her hair hung in ragged strings about her face. She was completely soaked from the rain that fell as well, despite the jacket she clung to that was wrapped around her body.

"For you," he called back. He could see the frightened look materialize in her eyes as she hesitantly tried to take a step back from the edge. He laughed; thrilled to see he had such power over her. "What's the matter, Bianca? Afraid to die?"

Wyatt awoke suddenly. Feeling his face still damp, he casually wiped at the wetness with his hand, looking up to the roof with bleary eyes as if trying to work out where the rain was coming through. His mind finally focused enough to recognize he was having his own nightmare and he realised that it wasn't rainwater but sweat that covered his face. He raised both hands, rubbing his face forcefully as if trying to wipe away the memories of his dreams as well as the physical signs that had come from them. Inhaling a deep breath he realised someone was no longer curled up to him.

"B?" he called.

"Hmm?" came her half muffled response as she snuggled further into the pillow.

He could tell that she was still half asleep, but she sounded a million miles away as if the bed was double the size. That feeling was soon lost as he reached out towards her, and felt his hand fall away not far from his body. Now the bed felt like half the size it should have been. Trying once more he felt his hand sweep through the air again. Confused, he placed his hand where he knew it was secure and pushed himself up into a sitting position. The lightning flashed outside again, creating enough light inside the room for him to see that a chasm had formed between him and Bianca, stretching not just across the bed but through the room.

"What the hell?" he asked aloud.

"Huh?" Bianca questioned sleepily, rolling back towards him

"Bianca, no! Look out!" he shouted.

Startled by the volume and insistency in his voice, she stopped short and pushed herself up, her hand resting on the very edge of the chasm. She looked down at it, mystified, her eyes tracing the whole way along its length and up the wall across the room. Again she looked back to where her hand was; shifting it back a little to see it was very dark down there wherever that chasm was leading to. She glanced up at Wyatt.

"I think I missed something," she commented dryly.

"I don't know. It's…" Wyatt trailed off, passing his hand through the gap again. He didn't want to say 'bizarre', or 'weird', or anything that had any affiliation with those words. He'd used them enough today.

"Um, Wyatt," Bianca started, looking down at herself and glancing quickly at him, his attention focused on the chasm for the moment.

Wyatt looked over to her, or rather through her. He could see the window and the curtain behind her, but he knew he shouldn't be able to see them at all. She was completely transparent. His eyes travelled up and down her body, and he could see from the expression on her face that she was starting to panic. More than a little concerned himself, he balanced himself on the edge of the gap and reached out towards her.

"Take my hand," he directed. He couldn't understand her hesitation as her eyes switched from his hand to his face and then back again. "Bianca!"

"I don't want to hurt you," she insisted.

Unsteadily he pushed himself forward, trying to reach further so he could at least grab her. She glanced behind her as if something was lying there in wait, and at that moment he didn't particularly care because whatever it was she thought she saw it was enough to spur her forward to try and grab for his hand. Looking down at where he was perched, he tightened his grip and swung his hand towards hers to try and grab it. Thunder clapped loudly outside, followed by a flash of lightning. It was enough to illuminate her face before she completely disappeared.

He screamed in frustration, with enough power to divert his concentration so much that he almost overbalanced and fell into the rift. Catching the edge quickly with his other hand, he pushed himself back quickly, lifting his hand again to find it fading just as Bianca had done. Rapidly it seemed to be making his way up his arm. He didn't understand it, didn't know how to stop it, and the only glimmer of hope he could offer himself at that moment was that perhaps he would now be going to the same place where Bianca had just gone.

* * *

The dreams that rambled through Chris' mind confused him. All brief but strung together into some familiar pattern. He was giving Bianca a ring and asking her to marry him – an impossibility considering she was his brother's fiancé – followed by another which showed him having dinner with his grandfather who had long since died of throat cancer. Consistently he saw his parents at a younger age, moving around, speaking to him, and if he was not mistaken his mother looked to be pregnant. Feeling a sharp pain in his abdomen, seeing blood on his hands as he collapsed to the attic floor, Chris awoke with a start, throwing off the sheets covering him and dabbing at the shirt covering his stomach. He found it hard to believe both his hand and shirt were totally dry. His dreams had looked and felt so real that it was difficult to dismiss them as such – only dreams.

He heard rapping on the window outside and instantly lifted himself into a sitting position. Hearing a clap of thunder he finally left his bed to peer out the window. Drawing aside the curtain he saw a jagged piece of lightning ripping through the sky further into the city. He wondered if he was still dreaming, the sky having been clear blue only hours before. He turned away from the window and stared at the bed as if expecting to see a pool of blood lying on the sheets. Something was not quite right, things he couldn't remember but felt so familiar. He could see his father crying over him by the bed. He knew it had never happened, wondering possibly if it was a premonition of some sort.

Thunder clapped again, making him jump. As the next bolt of lightning flashed he saw something light up to his right – a pair of eyes. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness he quickly realised it was only his reflection in the mirror. With that thought in mind he calmed down a little. But seeing his eyes, it reminded him of something – something he had told his brother he would do, but had not remembered until now. When he'd arrived home Sam had phoned him, and any mission he had set for himself completely slipped his mind. Not simply because of Sam. Although she could be quite distracting Chris knew he never forgot things, at least not as easily as he had done today. He made his way out of his room and up to the attic to find the Book of Shadows.

He looked around the room as he entered it and had the odd sensation that it didn't feel familiar anymore. Things seemed out of place, a little cleaner maybe. He had seen so many visions of it in his dreams that he couldn't quite remember how it looked anymore. He glanced to the side, almost convinced he had seen Bianca there, but knowing it was highly unlikely. She was probably fast asleep now. More than likely Wyatt would be with her. He shifted uncomfortably at the odd feelings of jealousy that spurned within him from that thought. He'd never had a problem with the two of them before.

His eyes falling on the book he made his way over to the dais, patting the cover with his hands unsurely. It was there. For some odd reason he was beginning to think the book was missing and this was all part of his imagination. But feeling the worn cover under his hands he knew he was wrong. Gently he eased it open, flicking over the first page, then the second. Thinking this might take him all night he took a step back and started telekinetically flicking through the pages. The thunder clapped outside again, and he heard a little voice in his heard warning him of consequences for using magic as personal gain – oddly the voice sounded like his mother. Dropping his hands to the side again he took a step back towards the dais, flipping the pages of the book with his fingers this time.

He tried to focus on what he was looking for but his mind kept drifting. Lightning flashed outside, and inside the attic it reflected off something. Chris froze at the book, looking up at the glint. Fear quickly rose inside him as he remembered the glint of the athame in his dream, the one that had stabbed him. He couldn't remember the guys face very well, but he knew for the most part he had been invisible.

"Hello?" Chris called, getting that eerie sense of deja vu that he had done this before. His dreams kept resonating in his head like the consistent pitter patter of the rain outside. He fastened his eyes closed, rubbing his hand across them as he tried to wake himself up a little more.

Peering down at the book again he discovered that he had opened it to the right page this time. _The Eye of Acrilya_. Reading further he found that it had been noted as a legend, a story whereby the eye was only rumoured to exist. It was an ancient evil that had been buried thousands of years ago to keep it from casting its gaze over the world and reverting major changes in time so that evil would have a chance to rule the world. A note had been added to the bottom, a swirling footnote of flowing handwriting that Chris recognised as his great-grandmother's. Penny Halliwell had additionally inscribed that the eye was not as well hidden as it used to be, that it had been temporarily unearthed in the 1950's when new buildings were being constructed around the Golden Gate Bridge area. She used Lenin and Hitler as prime examples of the eye's influence, writing that these scenes in history had been played out and were not changeable once completed. She feared for the next time the eye was unearthed, for when it opened up time would reverse and go back to the last point of origin where the next great evil was stopped.

Chris felt that stabbing pain in his abdomen again, only this time it felt as if it went in deeper. He cried out as he felt the pain ripping through his body; felt the puncture wound getting larger as the athame was twisted inside his body. He keeled over, gripping his stomach and staring down at his hand. Still there was no blood but the pain, the memory, it was all right there. Gripping the edge of the dais he fell to the floor, the book falling beside him. He glanced over to it, vainly trying to reach out for it, and saw it become transparent – just like it had been in his dream. He looked to his stomach again, wondering why he could feel the athame digging inside his body but not see anything there. He turned, groaning at the pain, seeing the walls become fuzzy and then turn red. Trying to focus his eyes, gritting his teeth at the pain, lifting himself slightly he could see them splitting apart, a dark void filling in the gap. He cried out again at the pain, dropping his head back onto the floor. The world seemed like it was fading away and he with it.

Outside the rain continued to pour, the storm resounding its echo, the light from the jagged strokes of lightning illuminating the sky and striking wherever it could do the most damage. Buildings that had been constructed recently began to fall back to the ground; old buildings that lay where they stood began to build themselves back up. Things began to disappear and reappear in their older forms. The waters receded. The sun began to travel backwards through the sky as it travelled through day and night in a reverse fashion. The speed with which time passed began to decelerate once twenty-two years had gone by, slowing down as it hit 2004 and repairing any changes a young man named Chris Perry had made. Time had now been altered back to its original state, set to play out again as it once had been. The eye was attempting to play out the fate of the next great evil, the destiny which had not been completed due to his brother's interference. The Eye of Acrilya had reverted time so that Wyatt Halliwell would have his chance to make his name in the history books for years to come, and all those around him were set to begin their lives anew, not knowing the happy states they were in now but the state of their lives as they had been before Wyatt's younger brother took the chance of going through that portal in 2026 to save his brother from his evil fate, and to save the world from him.


	4. Chapter 4

**2003**

"Daddy!" Bianca cried, running towards her father as he stood in the doorway.

Jeremiah Lawson dropped the bag he was holding to the ground, crouching down and scooping his young daughter up into his arms.

"Hello sweet pea," he said, standing and lifting her off the ground, balancing her on his hip as he picked up the bag from the ground again. She threw her little arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Lyn."

"That didn't take you long," Bianca's mother said, her hands on her hips as she looked at him from the hallway inside their house.

"Never does," he responded, shrugging casually.

"I thought you would be gone for days," Lyn said.

Jeremiah smirked. "I thought you would have had a little more faith in me."

"I do, but…" she drifted off. His expression changed to one of concern.

"They didn't drop by, did they?" he asked quickly.

"No."

He glanced at Bianca who was fiddling with the collar of his shirt. "Good, cause I don't want them getting Bianca involved."

"She's going to have to learn one of these days," Lyn said plainly.

Jeremiah stared at her abhorrently, swinging Bianca back down onto the ground. "I don't even like the fact they keep getting you involved let alone our daughter. For Christ's sake, she's only a child!"

He crouched down in front of Bianca, taking hold of her small hand. He noticed she was curiously playing with the edges of his bag, wondering what exactly was inside it. He looked back up to his wife, her arms folded as she watched them.

"Well you're not going to like what I have to do then."

"I can already tell by your tone I'm not, so you might as well tell me," he said, annoyed.

"They want me to retrieve the Grimoire," she explained. He stared at her blankly, as if he couldn't believe what she was telling him. "Well not just me, but a few of us. It was buried in a mountain of rock in the West Andes over a year ago. So I'll be gone a few days."

"Why do you insist on doing what they tell you to?" Jeremiah snapped angrily.

"Why do you insist on rebelling?" she retorted.

His tongue pressed into the side of his cheek, he refused to answer her, simply picking up his bag again and moving into the living room. Bianca followed closely at his heels, her eye still on the bag in his hand.

"Come here, princess," he said as he took a seat on the lounge. Ignoring Lyn, he focused his complete attention on his daughter. As she stopped by him he lifted her up into his lap. She looked at him expectantly, wondering what exactly he wanted her for. "I brought you something."

Her eyes lighting up she watched as he lifted a present from the confines of his bag, pushing the package into her hands. He sat back, watching the smile spread across her face.

"For me?" she asked. He nodded.

Ever so cautiously she pulled the wrapping apart. Jeremiah watched impatiently, wanting her just to tear it open like any other normal child would, but instead she seemed to be savouring the moment as she pulled the wrapping off strip by strip. After staring at the empty spot where the two had been for a few moments in contemplative thought, Lyn followed them into the living room and took a seat across from them.

"I'm sorry, Jerry," she said softly, clasping her hands together. He glanced up at her. "But you know if I even attempted the things you do, if I stray that far from the rest of them, there will be consequences. We'll more than likely be exposed more, and I can't risk putting us all in danger. You don't want that for Bianca now, do you?"

"No," he replied, brushing his hand down Bianca's long dark hair as he watched his wife.

Bianca gasped as she uncovered the doll her father had bought her. It was one of those newborn baby dolls, completely bald, but wearing the prettiest pink dress she had ever seen.

"Mommy, look!" she cried out excitedly, holding the gift up for her mother to see.

"Yes sweetie," Lyn said, giving her a broad smile.

Bianca pushed the wrapping paper from her lap onto the couch and lifted the doll, hugging it close to her chest. Jeremiah reached out towards the paper she had tossed away, trying to scrunch it up with one hand as the other rested against Bianca's back.

"You do understand where I'm coming from?" Lyn questioned.

"Yes, I do. But I don't have to like it."

"We can't do anything about that." She paused, noticing he was giving her little or no reaction now. "I shouldn't be gone too long. You can spend some time with Bianca at least."

His eyes finally lifted to look at her upon mention of his daughter's name. Bianca shifted in his lap slightly as she played with the doll. He knew Lyn was only trying to point out the positives to make him feel better about the whole situation but it wasn't enough to make him forget it.

"Mommy, she's hungry," Bianca spoke up, lifting the doll again.

"Okay sweetie, c'mon, we'll get her something to eat," Lyn said.

Bianca leapt off her father's lap, Lyn standing and guiding her gently out the door. Jeremiah leant forward, his head low as he stared at the ground in front of him.

"Promise me something," he said, turning his head up towards Lyn. She stopped in the doorway to look back at him, Bianca running ahead of her to the kitchen. "Promise me you're going to do everything in your power to stop them from recruiting her. Promise me you're going to make sure she stays safe."

Her lips curved into a smile. "Jerry, don't be silly. Of course she's going to be safe. She has two incredibly skilled parents to look after her, and an extended family to watch over her. Nothing's going to happen to her."

He didn't respond, and he didn't smile. Again he appeared indifferent about it all, but as Lyn left Jeremiah sighed heavily, his gaze moving back to the floor. All the positivity in the world that she could come up with, as she was so apt to doing, and the beneficial excuses were never going to be enough to convince him that things were going to be fine, that no danger would befall the three of them. He was not so concerned about himself, even if Lyn thought he should be, but it was his daughter he cared most about. She had not been exposed to this world and he didn't want anything bad happening to her once she was. But he knew others of their kind had a different idea, that if you were born into the legacy then you had to follow it. Jeremiah wanted to break tradition; he wanted his daughter saved from this lifestyle. Hearing Bianca giggle from the other room it reminded him why he did the things he did, he didn't want his only daughter to lost that innocence and sweetness that she had now.

* * *

"This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none. And this little piggy went 'wee, wee, wee' all the way home," Jeremiah recited, wiggling Bianca's toes and then running his hand down her foot and tickling her sole. She squirmed in his lap, screaming with giggling fits of laughter, wrestling herself away from him. He grabbed her underneath her arms and lifted her back up into his lap. "What's say we get you to bed?"

"Okay," she agreed, sliding off his lap. She walked over to the armchair and picked up her doll, clutching it to her chest as she paced back to her father. Jeremiah guided her out the door and up the stairs to her bedroom. She instantly jumped onto her bed, slithering under the covers as Jeremiah pulled them up and over her body. She cuddled the doll close to her as he tucked her in, kissing the top of her head.

"How much do you love me?" he asked.

"Lots," she replied with a grin. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing aside the hair from her face. She looked up at him, watching him, her smile slowly fading. "When's mommy coming home?"

"Soon, honey, soon," he replied. His thoughts becoming more and more distant, he forced a smile to cheer up his worried daughter. Glancing up to the bookshelf he got an idea. "Want me to read you a story?"

"Yes please," she said courteously, nodding her head eagerly.

"Okay, let's see," Jeremiah said, walking to the bookshelf and browsing through the collection of books there. He selected one with a blue cover and returned to the bed, leafing through the pages until he came to the beginning. "Once upon a time there was a well loved king and queen who lived in the grandest castle in all the land. They wanted very much to have a child, and one day were blessed with a beautiful daughter. So overjoyed were they that they held an enormous celebration and invited all the fairies across the land. Each fairy decided to bless the newborn daughter with the very best things in life. They wished for her to be the most beautiful girl in all the land, to have the voice of an angel, to have a warm and good natured heart, and to be the smartest girl in the kingdom. Before the last fairy had a chance to make her wish, the evil fairy appeared in a puff of smoke. She was angry that she had not been invited, and because of this decided to curse the daughter so that on her birthday she would be pierced by a sharp object and die. The king and queen were instantly frightened to hear this, but the last fairy who had yet to make her wish assured them it would be okay. She could not reverse the curse the evil fairy had placed, so instead she wished that the princess would not die but fall asleep for many, many years until woken with a kiss by her one true love.

"As the years passed, the king and queen grew less and less concerned with the safety of their daughter, and quickly forgot the curse that had been placed on her. She grew into a fine young woman who was loved by everybody, even the animals that she played with in the forest. One day a young prince was passing through the forest when he heard the princess singing along with the birds. Curious about the pretty sound he guided his horse towards the voice and discovered the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She was at first startled to see him, but relaxed upon seeing his handsome face and gentle manner. Before he had a chance to find out anything about her she was called away for dinner, for it was getting dark.

"It was on one of these days when the princess was playing in the forest that she discovered a path leading to an old tower. Curiously she followed it until she came to the doorway, pushing it open and walking inside. She heard a spinning sound coming from upstairs and followed the stone steps up to discover an old woman with a spinning wheel. The princess had never seen one before, her father having long ago banished them in the kingdom, and the old woman encouraged her to try it. Reaching out to touch it, she pricked her finger on the needle and fell to the floor. The old woman cackled, thinking she had killed the princess and revealed her true identity as the wicked fairy. But as the good fairy had wished for, the princess only fell asleep. Once she was discovered, she was lain out on the bed in the tower, her parents so distraught that the good fairies set about putting them and the townspeople to sleep. When word arrived in the young prince's kingdom about the princess' fate, he immediately rode out towards the tower. Upon arriving there he found the place covered in brambles. Pulling out his sword, he hacked through each steadily and persistently as he tried to get closer, not realising that the brambles closed around behind him. Only he would be able to get through. Having succeeded in this task he raced up the stairs to discover the princess sleeping. She was as beautiful as the day he had met her. He took her hand in his and found he could not wake her. Leaning over her he bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Her eyes fluttered open and she found her one true love. The sleeping spell was instantly lifted from the townsfolk, and the prince took her back home to her kingdom where they were soon married and lived happily ever after."

Jeremiah glanced up to see Bianca was soundly asleep. He leant forward, kissing the top of her forehead.

"Goodnight, princess," he whispered. He stood, walking towards the doorway, giving a lingering glance back towards his daughter as he silently closed the door behind him.

Bianca woke up in the darkness, her throat dry. She wanted a glass of water and saw her father had forgotten to leave one by the bed. Wiggling around she managed to push the covers from her body, sliding off the bed with her doll gripped tightly in her hand. Her little feet made soft shuffling sounds as she moved across the floor to the doorway. She reached up, barely grasping the doorknob, and pulled the door open. A steady ray of light flooded in from the upstairs hallway, and Bianca rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes as she tried to adjust them to the brightness. Being able to see enough, whilst still squinting, she walked into the hallway and headed for the stairs. She wrapped her hand around the banister as she stepped unsteadily down to the next stair. She heard a noise behind her and stopped, looking back down the hallway.

"Daddy?" she called.

She heard more noises and decided he must be upstairs. She stepped back onto the landing and traipsed down the hallway in the direction of her parent's room. The door was wide open when she got there. Her father was inside the room, standing just before her facing two darkly dressed men. Bianca stopped in the doorway, rubbing her eyes again.

"Daddy?" she said tiredly.

One of the men looked past Jeremiah towards her, a sardonic grin spreading across his face. "Ah, there's the little cherub."

Bianca squinted as she looked at him, the lights far too bright for her in this room. Her father took a step back towards her, his eyes still on the two men in front of him as he waved his hand back at her.

"Bianca, honey, go back to bed," Jeremiah said.

"But I'm thirsty," she complained.

The second man tried to walk around Jeremiah then, not only to get a better view but to get to Bianca as well.

"Hey, little girl, want to play a game?" he asked, crouching down to level himself at her height.

She watched him warily, not answering but instead taking a step towards her father, raising her small hand to the leg of his trousers and tugging on it gently. Jeremiah swept a hand back across her shoulders, keeping her close to his side.

"Keep away from her, and leave her out of this," Jeremiah growled. "Your dealings are with me and me alone."

The second man placed his hands on his thighs, glaring at Jeremiah as he pushed himself to a standing position again. Bianca peeked around her father's body to see the first man firing up a ball of flame in his hand.

"Very well," the second man said.

"That's just inviting trouble," the first man agreed.

Jeremiah's eyes switched from the one closest to him to the first man, further away but a larger threat at the moment. The flame ball came hurtling towards them and Jeremiah quickly turned his back, pushing Bianca around roughly and cowering over her. His body jolted forward slightly with the impact of the blow as it hit his shoulder. Jeremiah unwrapped his hands from around his daughter, trying to straighten but grimacing at the pain.

"There's more where that came from," the first man said.

Jeremiah breathed out heavily between gritted teeth, infuriated with the threat. The second man, heedless of Jeremiah's warnings, began to advance on him and Bianca again. Bianca shrank back into her father, her eyes turned up towards the second man.

"Bianca, go," Jeremiah said in a low voice. She looked up at him, confused. The men both came closer and Jeremiah began pushing her towards the door. "Run, baby, run!"

Bianca ran back towards her bedroom, the second man shimmered in in front of her blocking her entrance to the doorway. She screamed as he caught hold of her, wrestling away from his loose grip and running back towards the stairs. Frightened, she raced down them half-blind, almost expecting to stumble and fall as she did so, but thankfully luck was on her side and she reached the bottom safely. She glanced at the door thinking the best way to escape would be to leave the house, but she knew the door would be locked, and even if it wasn't her parents wouldn't let her go outside at night. If she had managed to get out, she wouldn't know where to go. They weren't exactly friendly with the neighbours. Her parents were always in and out and she didn't know anyone else.

She heard the heavy footsteps of the man pounding down the stairs behind her. She knew her only option was to hide. She looked around quickly, contemplating where to go, finally dropping to her hands and knees and crawling behind the couch that sat against the far wall of the living room. She moved as fast as she could, not stopping until she reached the corner. She turned herself around and curled her knees up, hugging the doll tightly as she closed her eyes and listened to the man walk about the room.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called. Bianca didn't move, didn't even make a sound. "You know I'm very good with games. I'm a genius at hide and seek. I know where you are."

Bianca whimpered, burying her face into the back of the doll to muffle the sound. He was scaring her all the more. All she wanted was for him to go away and leave her and her parents alone.

Eventually he did. He had continued to rant for at least another five minutes, Bianca sliding her hands up to her ears to block out the nasty things he was saying. After he had given up on trying to convince her to come out he continued to search all the downstairs rooms in silence, but did not find her. It became quite clear that the other man had joined him once they struck up a conversation – one distracting enough to divert his attention from the very place she was hiding. Bianca could feel herself dozing off again as she waited for them to leave.

Lyn arrived home to find the front door wide open. She stepped inside, wondering why the door was open yet the hallway was in complete darkness.

"Jerry?" she called. She stood at the base of the stairs looking up, waiting for a response. This time she increased the volume, shouting up the stairs. "Jerry!"

She glanced at the living room doorway, expecting him to walk out any second complaining that he had been coming, but nothing happened. She climbed the stairs to the top landing and began walking down the hallway. Passing by Bianca's room she noticed the door was slightly ajar. The room in darkness, Lyn surmised that she was fast asleep, but perhaps earlier had been a little restless and afraid of monsters in the dark – hence the need for a sliver of light to scare them away as it cast its brilliant glow in a narrow line across the room.

Arching her body at the tired muscles in her neck, Lyn continued up the hallway wishing for nothing more than a long, hot bath. Heading for her bedroom where the greatest amount of light was coming from, she stopped and smiled at the sight of her husband's discarded shoes lying just inside the doorway. Bending to scoop one up, she stepped further inside the room.

"Jerry, what are you…?" She let out an involuntary scream, seeing a foot still embedded in the shoe and immediately letting go of it as if it had burnt her hand. Composing herself quickly she glanced up and saw the remains of her husband spread across the bed. Her body convulsed as her stomach flipped, and she felt the bile rising in the back of her throat. Dashing for the bathroom she was only just quick enough to reach the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach into the bowl whilst resting her hand against the rear. Having settled enough to think concisely, she brushed the back of her hand across her lips and remembered her daughter.

"Bianca," she said softly. Pushing herself upright again she flushed the toilet, turning on her heels and racing back to her daughter's room. She pushed the door wide and flicked on the light switch. "Bianca?"

The room was empty. The sheets pushed back to the end of the bed. There was no sign of her daughter anywhere. Nothing was misplaced. If anything it looked like her daughter had been abducted right out of her own bed.

"Oh god, no," Lyn said, staring at the empty bed, thinking the worst. She turned, hurrying down the stairs. "Bianca? Bianca!"

Entering the living room she saw for the first time the disarray it was in. Lamps lay broken on the floor; books were thrown about with pages ripped from them. Every cupboard was open; almost every piece of furniture had been upturned. There were marks on the walls, on the coffee table, even on the floor. It chilled her to the bone when she recognised some of them as bloody handprints.

"Bianca?" she called, softer now, her voice trembling a little.

Bianca lifted her head from the wall, waking up after only lightly dozing in mild REM just in case she was discovered and had to make a quick exit. She heard her mother calling her name and shifted a little, brushing a hand across her face to get the hair out of her eyes and wipe away the few tears that had settled there.

"Mommy?" she called back quietly.

"Bianca?" Lyn said, surprised to hear the faint voice. She headed in the direction she thought she heard it coming from, somewhere by the wall. She grabbed the edge of the couch and yanked it backwards, kneeling on it and looking over to see her young daughter sitting in the corner, staring up at her with wide eyes. "Oh, honey, come here."

She pushed herself up further, leaning over the back edge and reaching down towards her. Bianca climbed to her feet, pulling the doll up with her, and put her arms over her mother's. Lyn grabbed hold of her tightly, lifting her light frame easily over the couch and standing her on the cushion. Lyn pushed herself back from the couch, lifting Bianca up onto her hip and brushing her hair back. Bianca nestled the doll between the two of them as her mother kissed her forward.

"Are you okay?" Lyn asked, her hand resting on Bianca's cheek as she looked directly into her daughter's eyes. Bianca dropped her head, nodding slowly. "You're not hurt, are you sweetheart? Who was here?"

"Bad men," Bianca said shortly. Lyn looked around frantically.

"Are they still here?" she asked. Bianca shrugged, fiddling with the doll's hands.

"C'mon, honey, we're leaving. We're going to Aunt Kate's and not coming back," Lyn said as she carried Bianca over to the stairs. She dropped Bianca to the floor, lightly tapping her backside. "Go pack your things. Be quick."

Bianca reluctantly went back up to her bedroom, looking around fearfully as she walked inside. She put her doll on the bed, pulling out the little backpack her mom had bought her and slowly filling it with toys and clothes that lay nearby. She stared at the book on the bedside table, the one her father had been reading to her when she went to bed, and gently lifted it, shoving it into the bag as well.

"Hurry, Bianca," her mother said from behind her as she joined her in the room, pulling out a whole handful more of clothes and thrusting them into the bag also. She put the backpack on Bianca's back then took her hand, Bianca quickly grabbing her doll off the bed before her mother pulled her down the stairs and out the front door. Lyn grabbed her own bag on the way, tossing it over the top of the driver's seat into the back seat of the car. Bianca sat in the front passenger seat and watched her mother as she eased herself behind the wheel. Starting the engine the stereo blasted on: _I'm not crazy I'm just a little unwell_. Lyn changed the station: _Where is the love?_ and speedily twisted the dial until it almost reached the end of the band: _bid my blood to run_. She slammed the radio off, glancing over to her daughter who was looking at her curiously. "Let's just leave that off for now, okay?"

The travelled in silence until they reached the apartment of Lyn's younger sister. Hurriedly pressing the buzzer, Kate eventually woke and let them inside. Greeting them at the doorway, she smoothed back her shoulder length medium blonde coloured hair. She looked down at Bianca and smiled as she clutched her mother's hand.

"What are you doing here, Lyn?" she asked, glancing back up at her sister. "It's so late."

"I know. I'm sorry. I need you to look after Bianca."

"Why?" Kate enquired. Lyn glared at her and Kate realised she'd left them standing out in the hallway. Quickly she ushered them inside. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Lyn's gaze drifted over to the television. Kate had the music channel on, the volume up quite loud. Bianca followed her mother's gaze, but Lyn was quick to shield her eyes.

"Can you turn that off please?" Lyn said tiredly.

"Oh!" Kate said, realising what she meant and heading over to the television to turn it off. Bianca wrapped her fingers around her mother's hand, lowering it enough to see Beyonce barely clothed and shaking her booty on the screen before it went black. She turned back to Lyn, folding her arms. "Explain."

"I don't have time to explain," Lyn said hastily. "I just got home, the place was in shambles. They got to Jerry. Now I'm going after them."

"Lyn," Kate said, concerned.

"Don't worry about me. Just look after Bianca."

"Where's daddy?" Bianca spoke up, staring up at her mother. Lyn knelt down, taking her by the shoulders.

"He's gone, honey. You're not going to see him again." She glanced back up to Kate. "Look, I have to go. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Bianca's bottom lip trembled as she watched her mother. She felt arms being wrapped around her, her Aunt Kate trying to comfort her as her mother walked out.

"C'mon, sweetie. Let's get you to sleep," Kate said.

Bianca didn't want to sleep. She wanted her parents back beside her, watching over her like always. The tears beginning to trail down her face, she cried herself to sleep, clutching her doll tightly, waking momentarily before the dawn to find her mother sleeping with her, her arms wrapped comfortingly around her. Feeling more at ease with this soothing gesture, Bianca closed her eyes and fell back to sleep again.


	5. Chapter 5

**2003** _cont._

"Lyn, where are you going?" Kate asked, following her older sister to the doorway as Lyn shrugged on a coat.

Lyn turned, glaring at her sister. "Searching, Kate. You know that."

"You just got out of bed!" Kate protested, grabbing her arm. "Lyn, stay, eat something. At least have a cup of tea."

"Tea?" Lyn repeated, as if the word was foreign to her.

"Just one cup. That's all I'm asking."

"Alright, but I 'm not staying any longer."

They walked back from the front doorway through the living room. Bianca was lining her dolls up on the couch so that they were all facing the television. Lastly she picked up a Bananas in Pyjamas doll and sat with it on the floor, her legs crossed and the doll in her lap as she stared at the screen. Lyn took a seat at the table in the kitchen as Kate went back to the kettle.

"You know it's afternoon now," Kate commented as the kettle boiled and she began pouring.

"It is?" Lyn responded, glancing out the window.

"See, Lyn, you don't even know what time of the day it is." Kate returned with two mugs in her hands, handing one over to Lyn as she took a seat across from her. "You're spending so much time going on vengeance missions that you can't even function in the real world anymore."

"I can function in the real world," Lyn argued.

"Really?" Kate said disbelievingly. "Well you seem to have forgotten that half your family survived that ordeal. I'm not raising your daughter for you."

"I never asked you to," Lyn said. She looked through the doorway at the television. Bianca was watching Bananas in Pyjamas. She shuddered upon hearing the theme. "I can't believe she's watching that. I thought it would give her nightmares."

"It's a kid's show. It's harmless. You're overreacting, Lyn."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Try to prove me wrong. Take responsibility for yourself and your daughter." Kate spun the mug in front of her. "You can't stay here forever. You're going to start interrupting my life as well."

Lyn placed her elbow on the table, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. "Well, you won't have to worry about that. Abe is setting us up in a little apartment close to home base – fully furnished. We don't have to worry about a thing. They're going to keep an eye on us. They just want me to play happy housewife and look after the Grimoire."

"With a little work on the side?"

"Yes."

"I hate to say this, Lyn, but I think they really just want you more under their thumb."

"If it's going to guarantee safety, then I don't particularly care."

"Well who am I to get in the way of you and the big guns?" Kate said, annoyed, pressing her hands against the table as she stood and collected their empty mugs. "The least you could do is say goodbye to your daughter before you go."

Lyn stood slowly, glancing at Bianca through the doorway. Kate was completely ignoring her now, her back turned as she washed up their dishes. She wanted to say something to her sister, anything, but she got the impression that if she tried to explain any of what she was thinking or feeling her younger sister still wouldn't get it, would still think she was making up every excuse to avoid the issue at hand.

She walked into the living room, scooting some of Bianca's toys aside to sit on the couch. Bianca stopped playing with the Bananas in Pyjamas doll and looked up at her mother, smiling warmly. Quickly Lyn averted her eyes, staring at the television screen as she played with the earring in her left ear.

"Mommy, will you play with me?" Bianca asked from the floor.

Lyn stopped fidgeting, her gaze moving down to stare at her expectant daughter. "No honey, mommy has to go out."

Her smile faded as she looked up at her mother sadly. "Can I come?"

"Not now," Lyn said quickly, watching Bianca's head drop, her small hands straightening the collar around the banana's neck. "Later, sweetie. We're going to get a new home. Would you like that? You can sleep in your own bed again."

"We didn't pack that," Bianca stated. Lyn laughed.

"It's okay, honey. We're getting newer and better things. I'll come pick you up later. Now give mommy a hug and kiss before she goes," Lyn said. Bianca's gaze shifted upwards, but she didn't move, just stared at her mother with disdain. "Bianca," her mother scolded.

Reluctantly Bianca got to her feet, walking over to her mother and wrapping her arms around her neck. She pulled back without kissing her. Lyn grabbed her hand and she turned back, pushing her mother's away. Lyn let go and she went and sat back on the floor, picking up the stuffed banana again and returning her attention to the television.

"Don't be angry with me," Lyn said as she stood, leaning over to kiss the top of her daughter's head. "Mommy will be back soon, promise."

True to her word, Lyn returned for Bianca much later, helping her pack her things before they walked down to the black car waiting for them out the front of Kate's place. Lyn pulled open the door handle, guiding Bianca around to the back door. She froze upon seeing the dark-skinned man already sitting inside.

"Bianca, honey," Lyn encouraged, trying to push her in. She stood her ground, shaking her head. Lyn sighed heavily, rolling her eyes away. She moved around Bianca so that she slid onto the backseat herself, then grabbed her daughter around the waist and pulled her in. "C'mon, honey, you can sit on my lap."

Bianca looked over at the man seated next to them, eyeing him suspiciously. The car moved away from the kerb, driving down along the street, turning this way and that until they reached another block full of apartment buildings. They stopped outside one that was twenty storeys high, made entirely of sandstone.

"Here we are," the man next to them said. He climbed out of the car, staring up at the building from the kerb as Lyn and Bianca joined him.

"Abe, it looks wonderful," Lyn said, smiling.

She took hold of Bianca's hand. Bianca clutched her doll in the other, looking around at the streets and the people around them. She lifted the doll's hand to her lips then felt her mother gently pull her forward as they began moving into the apartment complex.

"You're on the fourteenth floor," Abe informed them.

As they reached the door to their apartment he pulled the keys from his pocket, fumbling through them before finding the right one. He slipped it into the keyhole and turned his hand, the door clicking open. His large hand wrapping around the doorknob, he turned it and pushed the door wide to let them inside. Turning to the right they walked into the living room. Lyn smiled at the bright light that shone through two perfectly positioned windows – one on the right and one just ahead of them. Oriental rugs lay on the timber floors, padded furniture was set neatly about the room, a single stone pillar sat in the corner, and there were a collection of wooden cabinets on opposite ends of the room.

"Wow," Lyn said, breathing in the piny scent, walking over to one of the chairs and lifting the floral pillow into her hand. "It's just… perfect, Abe."

"Would you like to see Bianca's room?" he asked.

"Yes!" she cried, beaming. She couldn't wipe the smile from her face even if she tried. "C'mon, darling."

Bianca hugged the doll close to her as she followed her mother into the living room, looking around at the grey-lined walls. It didn't look like her old home. It didn't even feel comfortable to her. She saw her mother reaching out to take her hand, and she took it, following her mother into another room.

"This is your room, sweetie," Lyn said, leaning over to look at her daughter and gripping her hand enthusiastically.

"Not mine," Bianca said, shaking her head.

"Those zebra cut-outs we brought all the way back from Africa," Abe explained, gesturing towards the mobile that was constructed on the other side of the small white framed bed.

"The lamp as well?" Lyn questioned. Abe nodded. Lyn looked back to Bianca. "Say thank you, honey."

Bianca didn't say anything, just clutched her hand and stared at Abe. For the first time he actually turned his attention towards her, a brief smile flitting across his face. He nodded towards the rocking horse in the corner.

"You want to try that out? It's fun. It's yours now," he said.

She followed his gaze to the horse. She thought it would be fun. Carefully she put the doll on the pink bedspread and walked over to the rocker. He followed her over, leaning down with his hands outstretched to lift her up. She wouldn't let him touch her, pulling away aversively and climbing onto the rocking horse by herself. She gripped the handles, looking down at her feet as she tried to position them properly on the bottom rungs at the sides. Abe walked around to the front of the rocker, pushing down on the nose of the horse to start it rocking. Bianca moved forward as the horse rocked forward then leaned back and pulled it back to rock in the other direction. The more she eased it into the gentle rocking motion, the happier she became.

"See, you can play on that all you like now," Lyn said encouragingly, her hands positioned on the front of her thighs as she leant down towards her daughter.

By the time Abe decided to wander away from the rocking horse, Bianca started to enjoy herself, almost forgetting he was there. She looked at the white wallpaper with the pretty roses and the strip of ocean that ran through the middle. She looked at the duck on the bedside table and the stripy pink colours on her bed. She was starting to like this room more and more.

Abe picked up the doll from the bed, smoothing out the pink dress. "Now this is a pretty doll."

"That's mine!" Bianca snapped, her face darkening when she saw the doll in the strange man's hands.

"Abe, I think you better put that down," Lyn said softly. His face expressed nothing but confusion as he looked towards her. "Jerry gave her that doll. It's very precious to her. I don't think she wants anyone to be touching it. Not after… well, you know."

Abe looked down at the small doll in his large hands, glancing back up to Lyn and raising an eyebrow. Ever so cautiously he lowered it back to the bed, as if he'd just picked up a dangerous animal's dinner. Bianca watched him closely, gripping the handles. She sat completely still on the horse until the doll was safely back on the bed and the strange man away from it before she started up the rocking motion again.

"You shouldn't let her get so attached to things," Abe warned. Lyn plastered a fake smile onto her face, one that looked natural because she was so used to doing it.

"Honey, why don't you unpack while Abe shows me the rest of the place?" she suggested, guiding the hefty man out the door, watching as her daughter carefully climbed off the rocking horse and went over to the bed.

Bianca turned the backpack around, pulling open the zip and letting the contents spill out. One by one she pulled each object out, piling them onto the bed without regard of what it was or where it should be.

Lyn closed the door silently, following Abe back into the living room. He took a step to the side, his hand fastening around the knob of a tall wooden cabinet and pulling it open slightly.

"Of course there are cabinets here to store any… secret belongings," he explained. He closed the door again, his attention turning towards the copious metal shelves set against the wall. "Also shelving for books, family photos, whatever you wish to store or display there. Additionally we provided you with a toy basket packed with more toys to keep your space in order and your daughter entertained."

For the first time Lyn noticed the toys in the corner, piled high in a little red square basket. Her gaze travelling up to the exquisite paintings that adorned the walls, she took time to get a second analysis of the room, picking up on what she'd missed the first time. She looked around in wonder as she saw it was definitely ornately furnished, even if the walls were a dreary grey.

"This is certainly more that enough. Thank you, Abe."

"There're locks on all the doors for security, but of course we shall be keeping an eye on you if you need any additional assistance."

"Greatly appreciated. Did you want to stay for anything?" she asked, looking around. The thought occurred to her she would need to get groceries at some point. "Not that we have anything."

Abe chuckled. "It's fine. I have jobs to get to anyway. Keep in touch."

"I will. Thank you."

Looking around again she was satisfied that this was a place she could easily get used to living in. It was just the right size for her and Bianca. She followed Abe back to the door, locking it behind him as he left and saw the door to her room on the other side. She pushed it open, smiling at the floral bed sheet. It looked fluffy and comfy. She moved towards it, sitting down then lying down, closing her eyes and listening to the noises of the neighbours through the wall, and the rustle of wind outside her window. It felt good to be in her own home again.

* * *

"Oh, Bianca! Do I have to keep cleaning up after you?" Lyn shouted in frustration, leaning to pick up the books off the floor and placing them into the little red basket. 

Bianca glanced up as her mother stopped next to her, barely batting an eyelid before she turned her attention back to the pink table in front of her and picked up the teapot, pouring more imaginary tea for the stuffed rabbit and bear that were seated in chairs across from each other for her tea party.

"I think you're missing a guest," Lyn commented. Bianca looked down, seeing her lap empty.

"Oh, dolly!" she cried. She climbed to her feet and went back into her bedroom to find her most treasured doll.

Lyn scooped up the Bananas in Pyjamas doll from the floor, pausing halfway as she heard a light rapping at the front door. Straightening the rest of the way, she casually laid the doll on the armchair and headed for the front door, opening it to find two women standing before her – a brunette and a redhead. She didn't recognise either of them. She was even a little surprised to find complete strangers rocking up on her doorstep after only living there for a few months.

"Hi! How's it going?" Piper said, smiling from ear to ear.

"Can I help you?" Lyn asked quizzically, looking them both over.

"Hopefully," Piper said, nodding. Lyn eyed the brunette suspiciously. She seemed a little too overly happy.

"Yeah, see, we just moved in from out of state, and we wanted to get to know our neighbours," Paige picked up from where Piper left off. Lyn watched her form. She seemed a lot more friendlier and natural of the pair.

"Oh, well, welcome," Lyn said pleasantly. "Where did you move from?"

"Phoenix," Piper said chirpily.

"Really?" Lyn said, eyeing her suspiciously. She really didn't trust this one. Faced with the decision of being the polite housewife or shutting the door in their faces, she thought it better to play safe than sorry. She didn't want to think the worst if they really were only neighbours. They were both beaming back at her. "Please," she said, motioning towards the living room, "come in, come in!"

"Thank you," Paige said politely, following Piper inside. Lyn closed the door and turned the lock.

"Wow, nice place," Piper commented, holding her hand to her chest. Lyn smiled, seeing that she was really in awe. It was the first authentic expression she had seen on her face since their arrival.

"Yeah, real nice," Paige agreed, her tone caught somewhere between appreciation and a low resentful grumble.

"Thank you," Lyn said, strolling back into the room behind them. She turned to face them, ready to drop all the acting and start questioning them about their real reason for being there. She couldn't handle all the fake pleasantries. She was beginning to wonder when she was meant to offer them milk and cookies.

"Mommy, mommy!" Bianca cried, running out with her doll in her arms and grabbing her mother's sleeve, tugging on it gently. "Mommy! Mommy, can I play with—"

"Oh, Bianca sweetie," Lyn said, turning and grabbing her daughters hand in both of hers. "Can you give mommy a minute? Okay?"

"Okay," Bianca agreed.

Lyn turned her head to the side and saw that the brunette was staring strangely at her daughter now. The redhead had a bizarre look on her face also, but it was the brunette whose attention was suddenly fixated on the young girl. Becoming even more concerned that the intentions of these two so-called neighbours were not good, Lyn began ushering Bianca back towards her room.

"Go and play with your toys. I'll be right in, okay?" Lyn said.

"Okay," Bianca repeated. Lyn closed the door behind her.

"Now what?" she heard the redhead mumble.

It was enough to convince Lyn that they had intended more than just a friendly stopover. She turned, powering up an energy ball and throwing it at them. The two parted like the red sea, the blue ball smashing into the glass vase on the cupboard behind them, the flowers falling away at the destruction. Seeing she had missed, she powered up another. The redhead cowered, but the brunette stepped back into place raising her own hands. The energy ball in her hand spread out like lightning, exploding in her hands as piece by piece she fell apart as well.

The air circled speedily as she reformed, stopping by Bianca in her bedroom. She leant to pick the small girl up from behind the bed as she stood staring at the door, clutching the doll to her chest. She heard the door open as she picked her up in her arms, swinging her small frame around and seeing the two standing in the doorway.

"Hurry Bianca!" she said hastily, the girl almost flying over her shoulder in the eager effort to get her away.

Lyn shimmered out with Bianca, leaving the two stunned witches looking on into the empty room. She shimmered into Kate's place with Bianca and placed her on the ground, Bianca taking an unsteady step back so she wouldn't fall with the sudden descent.

"Lyn? What's wrong?" Kate asked worriedly as she ran towards them. She dropped to her knees in front of Bianca, brushing aside the long strands of dark hair that stuck to her frightened face.

"We just got attacked," Lyn stated.

"Attacked? How? Where? Who?"

"At home. Two women showed up on my doorstep. One of them thought it was a nice idea to blow me up."

"Oh my god! Lyn! Are you okay now?"

"Yes. I'm quite capable of handling myself in those kinds of situations."

"I know that. I wasn't trying to be offensive." Kate glanced at Bianca as she climbed into her lap. "What did they want? Were they after the book?"

"No, I don't think so. I think…" Lyn looked down at the two of them, Bianca shifting slightly in Kate's lap as she tried to get comfortable. "I think they were after Bianca."

Kate pulled down the hem of Bianca's white top, flattening it as Bianca lifted the doll towards her, resting it on her lap as she curled her legs up more.

"Why on earth would they want Bianca? What could they need a little girl for?"

"I don't know, and I don't care to find out," Lyn said. She knelt next to the two of them taking Bianca's left hand turning it so her wrist faced up. She gently traced over the birthmark and Bianca looked up to her. "Honey, you listen to me. You don't talk to any strangers. You don't trust anyone unless they have this mark, you understand me? And if you're ever in trouble you come find me or Aunt Kate."

"Yes mommy," Bianca said obediently.

"Good girl." Lyn pushed herself back to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Kate queried.

"I'm going to talk to Abe. There has to be some reason behind this. Somehow they got past the others, I want to know why."

Kate watched her sister shimmer out again, turning her attention back to Bianca and lifting the doll. Bianca kept her hands fastened to the other side, watching it rise before her.

"Is dolly okay?" Kate asked.

"Yep," Bianca said, turning her head to grin at her.

Kate ran her hand over Bianca's hair, pulling her forward and planting a kiss on her forehead. After all the child had been through, to still be able to smile at the end of all things, Kate knew she was truly a strong soul.


	6. Chapter 6

**2009**

"Bianca! Be careful!" Lyn shouted out the window.

"I am!" Bianca protested.

She glanced up the fire escape to her mother then descended another rung, her hands on either sides of the bars as she lifted herself and swung forward, letting go and leaping onto the flat of the landing. She loved that feeling of being airborne, if only for a few seconds. Her mother, of course, was more concerned about her breaking her neck whilst she bounded down the fourteen floors of the rickety fire escape that led down to the alley next to their apartment building. She reached the base in one piece, brushing her hands across her clothes as she looked for a good spot to play. Seeing a nice, even clearing on the cement she pulled a piece of chalk from her pocket and walked over to it, bending down to draw one line, then another line, and so on until she had a series of boxes stacked one on top of another. Finally she numbered them then cast aside the piece of chalk and dusted her hands. She hopped inside the first three boxes, jumping and planting both feet firmly into the next two linked boxes with one foot in each, hopping once more then landing on both feet again, jumping and spinning herself around before she reversed the routine.

"You're pretty good at that, aren't you?" a voice asked.

Bianca stopped hopping, placing her other foot down as she stared at the spiky-haired man in front of her. He'd appeared silently from nowhere. Bianca squinted briefly as she looked him over.

"What's your name?" he asked, his English accent incredibly thick. She glanced back up the fire escape. The man rolled back his sleeve, holding up his arm to show the Phoenix mark on his forearm. "It's okay, I'm family. My name's Nathan."

"Bianca," Bianca said quickly, her gaze returning to the ground as she continued her game.

"You know when I was your age we used to play that with pebbles or stones," Nathan said. Bianca stopped at the start as he got up and searched around the alley. Finally he came back with a handful of stones and offered them to her. "Here."

Gingerly she took one from his palm, clutching it in her hand as he took a step back. She watched him as he found a stray solid box and pulled it up towards them, taking a seat and watching her expectantly as if he was about to watch a professional sport. Bianca looked at him strangely, taking a step back to look at the chalk outline on the ground.

"Thanks," she mumbled. Her eyes travelled up and down the hopscotch court as she tried to figure out what to do with the stone.

"Just throw it into the first box and pick it up when you return. But you have to stay on one foot – it's a good test of balance."

Bianca glanced over to him before doing as he instructed. The stone bounced and stopped by the back edge of the first box. Bianca hopped to the end of the hopscotch outline, turned, and then hopped back to the first box, leaning over on one foot and snatching the stone into her hand. She hopped outside the box holding the stone firmly in her palm.

"Very good," Nathan complimented. "Now do the same, but in the next box."

Bianca did the same as before, completing the same routine and retrieving the stone. She smiled with satisfaction as she righted herself again. She found the game quite simple, and it was incredibly easy for her to balance.

"You know you're quite graceful when you do that," he commented, looking at her thoughtfully as she picked up the stone and returned to the start again.

"I guess." Bianca shrugged. "It's not that hard."

"Bianca!" Bianca turned her head up as Lyn descended the last of the fire escape and pulled her aside. "Bianca, what did I tell you about talking to strangers?"

"He's not. He's family," Bianca said.

Nathan smiled warmly at Lyn, his forearm upturned enough for her to spy the Phoenix mark. She gave him a brief, pleasant smile back, lowering her voice as she turned back to Bianca.

"Upstairs. Now," she warned with a steely gaze.

Bianca frowned, her gaze drifting to the ground and the stray piece of chalk she had thrown aside earlier. She bent to pick it up as if delaying doing what her mother instructed showed enough defiance to make Lyn change her mind and allow her to stay. Lyn put her hand on the back of Bianca's shoulder, turning and pushing her towards the stairs. Bianca dragged her feet as she headed back, looking over her shoulder towards her mother with disappointment on her face. Slowly she climbed up, stopping when she reached the halfway mark, keeping low and peeking over the edge so that she could see and hear what was going on down below.

"What are you doing here?" Lyn queried as Nathan stood.

"Observing," he answered.

"Observing what?"

He folded his arms, glancing out to the road, his gaze returning to Lyn then moving leisurely up the stairway behind her to see where Bianca had gone. Bianca scooted back, trying to keep out of sight of prying eyes. She didn't want them to spot her spying on them.

"She's very talented, you know," Nathan said. "Why are you hiding her away?"

"I'm not 'hiding' her," Lyn retorted. "I owe my husband's memory enough respect to at least give him his wish regarding her, and I wish you people would stop trying to change my mind."

Nathan shrugged. "It was just a suggestion. The rest of us were all out in the field by her age."

"I know."

"I just don't understand what your problem is with it."

"I don't have a problem with it. I just explained to you why I haven't let them recruit her."

An ear-piercing shriek suddenly sounded from the end of the alley. Nathan jerked his head at the sound, Lyn jumping almost ten feet in the air at the shock and surprise of it. Up on the fire escape, Bianca cowered down with her hands over her ears feeling as if her eardrums were about to burst.

The high pitched noise soon stopped as a siren uncloaked herself before the pair. She wore a tight leather catsuit and her ruddy coloured hair fell about her shoulders as she strolled closer to the two.

"Oh, fuck, she followed me," Nathan groaned.

He powered up an energy ball, and Lyn did the same. Nathan threw his first and the Siren waved her arm, sending it away before it reached her. Lyn threw hers and the Siren ducked a little as she walked closer, the ball sailing just over her right shoulder.

"You really need to learn to be more stealthy," Lyn hissed at him.

Nathan raised his hands, circling them around each other as he tried to create something a little more powerful. Lyn was less about the play and more about getting the job done. She conjured herself an athame and threw it towards the siren. Bianca watched it tumble end over end before it lodged itself in the Siren's forehead. There was a brief moment of silence hushing over the area, and then the Siren gave one last screech as she was engulfed by flames, nothing left of her but ashes.

"Hey, that was my kill!" Nathan protested.

"You were taking too long," Lyn said and sighed. "Now if you don't mind, I think I should be getting back to my daughter."

Lyn turned from him and began walking back towards the fire escape, her foot on the bottom step as she pulled herself up.

"Wait," Nathan said. She looked back over to him and he flicked his fingers, a manila folder appearing in his hand. "I was meant to bring you this. It's your next target."

Lyn dropped back to the ground, strolling over to him and taking the folder from his hands. She opened it slowly with the other hand as she balanced it, browsing over the contents inside.

"You should have just told me this was why you were here in the first place," she said.

"I could have done that, but then I would have missed out on all the fun of fighting the she-witch that was after me."

"Running from a target?" she asked, her eyebrow rising as she glanced back at him.

"No, just a little distraction tactic," he replied with a wink.

"Just keep my daughter out of it."

Nathan raised his hands. "Okay, I'm going! No more bad guys."

He shimmered out and Lyn pulled the folder towards her chest, sighing deeply. Looking back up the fire escape she decided to shimmer up to her apartment instead. Seeing her mother disappear, Bianca quickly got to her feet and raced the rest of the way to their flat, stumbling as she almost tripped and fell numerous times in her rush to beat her back there.

"Bianca!" Lyn called, shimmering back into the living room and seeing her daughter not there.

Bianca froze with her hands on the windowsill. She could see her mother inside, but Lyn had yet to spot her still on the fire escape. She decided to see if she could do the same as her mother, closing her eyes and concentrating hard on being elsewhere, like her bedroom. When she opened her eyes she had shimmered in behind her bed, relieved to see her door closed. She scooped the colouring book off the bed and headed for the door, opening it and walking into the living room looking as innocent as she could.

"I was just looking for some coloured pencils," she said.

Lyn placed the folder down on the edge of the coffee table, heading over to the small red basket in the corner and pulling out a pencil case. She unzipped it as she returned, handing it to Bianca as the young girl squirmed her way in-between the coffee table and the lounge, opening the book onto the wooden surface in front of her.

"Open your eyes next time," Lyn said as she placed it in front of her.

Bianca stared up at her mother, wondering if she had caught her after all. She seemed to have a sixth sense for things, so it didn't surprise her that perhaps her mother had known without even seeing her shimmer out before.

Lyn disappeared around the corner as she headed into her own bedroom, returning and shrugging on a dark coloured jacket that stretched all the way down to the floor. In her absence, Bianca reached out guardedly towards the manila folder and lifted the cover open. Inside was a pile of black and white surveillance photos, and a few pieces of paper. The one on top was a profile of the man in the pictures, and underneath that an itinerary of his movements. Everything was clipped together neatly with a metal paperclip up the top. Hearing Lyn close her bedroom door, Bianca snatched her hand back, letting the folder fall closed again. She turned her attention back to the book in front of her, and looked up from the page she was colouring in as her mother returned, stopping the pencil in mid-stroke as she eyed her mother.

"Are you sending me to Aunt Kate's?" Bianca asked, disheartened to see her mother was going out again.

"Only for a little while," Lyn said.

"Which means all night," Bianca grumbled as she returned back to colouring in.

"Bianca!"

"Well you're never home. It's true!" Bianca exclaimed, trying hard not to look up at her mother, instead peeking up at her from the corner of her eye as she moved the pencil more violently over the page.

"I have a job to do, Bianca. If I stayed here all the time you wouldn't have a roof over your head. You have to understand that."

Feeling guilty for sniping at her mother and inevitably on the verge of arguing with her, Bianca fell completely silent as she worked away on the picture, still making strokes hard enough to almost put a hole through the paper.

"Why do you kill people?" Bianca asked softly. Glancing up to her mother she could see she was stunned at having been asked such a thing, especially by her young daughter who up until now had appeared oblivious to the whole thing.

"It's not a matter of choice. It's a family legacy," Lyn explained. She crouched down at the other end of the coffee table, turning her wrist over and pulling up her sleeve. "Every Phoenix is born with this mark on their wrist. The mark of the Phoenix. It's a lifestyle. Every one of us get trained as assassins. And it's not just me, it's that man in the street, it's your Aunt Kate, even your father was one. We're all part of it."

"Even me?"

"Even you."

Feeling a little scared at the thought of being thrust into such a lifestyle, Bianca's gaze fell back down to the page in front of her. She picked up another colour, and this time was making lighter and more meticulous strokes just inside the lines. She could feel her mother watching her, her stare almost burning into her. She tried to ignore that uncomfortable feeling, knowing her mother still hadn't moved.

"Does it hurt?" Bianca asked finally, her concentration still firmly fixed on keeping just inside the lines, although she had a million and one unrelated thoughts running through her head.

"Does what hurt?"

"When you kill someone."

Lyn smiled at the worried expression of her daughter, lifting herself just enough to sit on the edge of the table and scooting closer to her. She wrapped a hand around her head and pulled her closer, kissing the top of her hairline.

"Honey, you don't have to worry about that," she said soothingly. "Not now."

"But…" Bianca started. "What does it feel like? To kill?"

"You want me to tell you?" Lyn questioned. Bianca nodded. With no other way to ease her mind or stop her questioning, Lyn plastered that pleasant fake smile onto her face that she was so used to doing and doing well and said to her daughter: "Sweetie, that's the best part about it. You don't feel a thing."


	7. Chapter 7

**2014**

"What are you looking at, sweetie?" Lyn asked.

Bianca shrugged as she turned another page over. She had nothing better to do than sit curled up on the couch and leaf through the Grimoire. Her mother seemed to have completely forgotten it was her fifteenth birthday. No presents, no cards, no happy wishes, just another ordinary and boring day to be expended until the next arrived.

"Nothing in particular," Bianca answered, flipping over to the next page. "I've just never really looked through this before."

"Well if you ever need to find something, you only have to ask me where it is," Lyn offered genuinely as she dropped the washing basket to the floor. She lifted one of the shirts from the top and began folding as she watched her daughter. "You don't have to mindlessly flip through it."

Bianca stopped at the page she was on, her hand flat on the book as she lifted her head and glared at her mother. Did she really think that she was that incapable of doing something herself? And exactly how trustworthy was her memory if she couldn't even remember when her only child was born?

The phone rang and Lyn was quick to move towards it, dropping the washing from her hands back into the basket. Bianca watched her go, drawing in the breath she had forgotten to take as she settled back into the chair. Her gaze returning to the book on her lap, she removed her hand and looked at the page before her. _Raising a spirit from the dead_. She smirked at the thought of resurrecting her father, because at least then she'd have one parent to celebrate with.

Lyn was not gone for long. She came back, picking up the next item from the basket and began folding more rapidly.

"I suggest you go get ready, honey. We're going out."

"Out? Out where?" Bianca questioned.

"To a restaurant. For your birthday." Lyn was grinning now as she looked at her daughter, blindly folding under the pillowcase in her hand. Bianca stared at her in bewilderment. "What? Did you think I'd forgotten? There's still time. You're not fifteen yet – have to wait until seven past nine for that."

"But…" Bianca started. She didn't know what to say, still trying to piece together whether her mother had really forgotten or was just really good at surprising people. She folded the book closed and placed it next to her on the couch. "Is Aunt Kate coming?"

"No, sweetie. She's in London. You'll probably hear from her tomorrow."

Bianca pushed herself off the couch, taking the book with her as she stood. Crossing the room to the metal wall unit she placed the book back up on the shelf, sliding it in-between the faded copy of Sleeping Beauty and her mother's crinkled copy of one of those John Grisham novels she was so fond of, pausing and looking back at her mother before completely letting it go.

"What should I wear?" she asked.

"Something dark and pretty," Lyn suggested.

Bianca kept her eyes trained on her mother's lean frame, not completely sure why the washing suddenly seemed more interesting than her. She looked back down to the floor.

"Um, I'll find something."

Shuffling her feet she headed back to her room. A solid oak armoire sat against the wall, one her mother had radically bought on a whim a few years ago. This she opened and stared at the contents inside. She wasn't sure exactly what her mother wanted her to wear, and most things fitting that description were summer clothes. She'd need an incredibly warm jacket to suffice with that.

"You haven't found anything yet?" Lyn questioned as she carried Bianca's clothes into her room and dumped them on the edge of the bed.

Bianca sighed. "I'm looking."

"Just," Lyn started, sounding a little irritated at her dalliance. She reached past Bianca into the closet and pulled out something appropriate, throwing it onto the bedspread. "Wear that."

Bianca glanced at the clothes, her mother shutting the door forcefully behind her as she left. It frustrated Bianca to no end that her mother was acting the way she was after only filling her in last minute.

"You could have told me sooner!" Bianca snapped at the closed door.

By the time she emerged in the living room, Bianca noticed that she had been a lot quicker than her mother. She heard the running water stop and realised her mother would only be getting dressed now. She didn't understand why she had to rush around if her mother was going to take her time.

Spying her mother's handbag on the chair, she quickly glimpsed towards the doorway before guardedly opening it up. Her hand snaking inside she found what she was looking for and pulled it back out. She opened the small black date book into the palm of her hand and flicked to November 7th. There was nothing written there – no birthday, no dinner – it was blank. She flicked progressively through the days before it and found they had all been filled with various activities and short-hand notes of kills. But again, no mention of her birthday. She thought surely there would have been a reminder to book the restaurant, or to buy a gift, but she found nothing that remotely represented that. In a last ditch effort to prove her mother really had planned tonight, that she did actually care and hadn't been reminded by that abstract phone call, she skipped ahead a few days. There were many names there she didn't recognise, most likely because they were her mother's next targets. Dissuaded, she let the book fall closed in her hand.

"I hope you're ready, Bianca," Lyn called out as she passed the front door on her way back.

Bianca jumped at the sound of her voice. She hadn't been listening out and now her mother was closer than she thought. She dropped the book back into the open slit and whirled around, her hands clasped behind her back as if she was still holding it and hiding the fact she had been skimming through it. Lyn looked at her curiously as she stopped in the centre of the room, fastening the last diamond earring into her ear.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Lyn asked.

"Nothing," Bianca said, shaking her head quickly.

Lyn walked behind one of the other armchairs, leaning down to pick up her shoes. With her view obstructed, Bianca took the opportunity to quickly turn back to the handbag, pulling the zip closed and then returning to that same position, this time her hands in front. Lyn straightened, carrying her shoes around the chair before sitting in it to pull them on. Slipping her foot into the heel of the second she glanced up to see Bianca still hadn't moved. She smiled at her.

"If something's bothering you, you can tell me," she said.

"I'm fine," Bianca answered shortly.

"Go get in the car then. Don't want to be late."

Bianca's gaze shifted away from her mother. She wasn't the one dragging her heels. Why did her mother always have to turn things back onto her? She walked quickly to the front doorway, taking hold of the handle and pulling it open. She could hear the jangle of keys as her mother followed her out, Bianca keeping at least eight steps ahead of her as she headed along the corridor and down to the bottom of the building.

They turned onto the Embarcadero, and then down another side street before pulling up nearby a restaurant that had shiny glass doors out the front. Bianca stared out the window. It didn't look like a place her mother would think to take her, it looked very adult, probably flashy. Her mother chaperoned her to the red brick out the front. Bianca glanced up; saw the white letters spelling out Piperade.

"Here's my two fine young ladies," she heard a male voice say. Startled, she jumped back a little and saw a dark man round the corner. It was Abe. "So glad you could make it."

"How are you, Abe?" Lyn asked, stepping towards him and giving him a short hug as well as a kiss on the cheek.

Bianca looked at him quizzically, confused by his sudden appearance. What was he doing here? The way her mother had been talking it was only them. She'd never liked Abe, not since the day she met him, and she didn't understand why her mother would even think to invite him along. As she followed them inside she began to notice more and more that it sounded like he had invited them, that he had organised all this, not her mother.

"I've booked a table for three. At seven," Abe said to the maitre d.

"Right this way," he answered after finding their reservation.

Guiding them across the oak flooring and past both round and square tables covered with white tablecloths and either red or blue striped runners he stopped by a table set for four by the far wall. Placing the menus down Bianca took a seat next to her mother as Abe sat across from them, nodding genially at the man.

"Are we expecting someone else?" Bianca asked, slightly bitter at having been left out of certain details.

Lyn laughed, taking her daughter by the head and pulling her closer as she kissed the top. "No, honey, of course not. You don't need a big gathering for your special day."

It infuriated Bianca to hear her mother say that, to make so little of her birthday that she would go so far as to voice the thought that everyone cared just as little as she did. She gripped the edge of her seat angrily as her mother let her go and she straightened up again. Abe picked up the menu, looking it over with concentrated thought.

"Shall we order?" he questioned.

"It all looks so delicious," Lyn stated.

Bianca pried first one hand off the chair, then the other, and reached up to the table to open her menu. It all looked complicated, and much more expensive than she would have thought, even though she had never really been to a fancy restaurant such as this before. She glanced over to her mother who had obviously already decided what to have and had folded her menu back down onto the table. She was waving around her expensive jewellery as she chatted and laughed with Abe. Fancy restaurants, lavish jewellery, it was all usual business to her. All the expensive things, even the imported stuff in their apartment, it was all bought with blood money – money that had changed hands into Lyn's for succeeding in her latest kill. It sickened Bianca to think that everything she owned came at the expense of someone else's life.

"Having trouble, sweetie?" Lyn asked as Bianca turned back to the menu and screwed her nose up at the dish that contained broccoli.

"You should only eat something light," Abe suggested. "I can choose for you if you like."

"I'm not a little girl," Bianca snapped.

"I know you're not. That's why we brought you out tonight," Abe said, seemingly not noticing her attitude towards him.

"C'mon, sweetie, they have to take our order," Lyn urged, giving her menu a little tug to draw her attention back to it.

Bianca randomly picked something off it that sounded at least halfway edible, watching as the waiter quickly picked up all the menus and raced off. She kicked the floor with the base of her shoe, sliding it along aimlessly as she listened to her mother and Abe droning on about things she didn't know anything about or had absolutely no interest in. This wasn't fun at all. She was beginning to wish her mother had completely forgotten her birthday then she could have at least found something interesting to do at home.

The plates were soon placed in front of them and Bianca was stunned at how big they were, and the enormous portions of food that were piled on top. She had no idea how one person would be able to eat it all, let alone a small girl like her. She picked up the fork, stabbing at it, looking for a good place to start.

"Bianca, use the knife, that's what it's there for," her mother scolded.

Bianca glared sideways at her mother, snatching the knife off the table and then using both utensils to cut into her meal. She raised the first piece to her mouth, pausing briefly to glance at them both in case they wanted to tell her the proper way to eat as well. Neither of them were paying attention, instead savouring their own meals. Internally she was relieved that she could eat in peace. She seemed to be the slowest though; her careful precision due to that slight paranoia left her with half a plate of food yet to be consumed whilst the other two had cleaned theirs up. She tried to speed up, not wanting her mother to rush her to finish before she could.

"Are you done?" the waiter asked, leaning down towards her with his hand on the edge of her plate. She nodded. She couldn't finish no matter how hard she tried. He took the two empty plates and placed her one on top, the table absolutely clear now except for a few wine glasses which Abe and Lyn were drinking from.

"We bought you a present," Abe suddenly announced.

Bianca stared at him blankly. Why did he have to keep pluralising everything? It wasn't like he and her mother were involved, at least not that she knew about. Of course he had been around her whole life, but she hardly ever saw him, and he'd never given her a gift before. He placed a long black box on the table, a red ribbon fastened neatly around it. Bianca looked from the box up to his face then glanced over to her mother. Lyn smiled pleasantly, encouragingly. Bianca pulled the box towards her, tugging on the red ribbon. It looked like a jewellery box, long and slender, and she imagined it would be a highly expensive bracelet or something of the sort lying inside. She didn't even really care, she didn't want presents from a man she disliked, and even if it was partially from her mother, Lyn still had yet to voice an opinion over it. She felt her mother's hand on her shoulder and looked to see that she was getting up and trying to slip past her.

"I'm going to get some air," she said.

Bianca looked down sadly as she left. Her mother didn't even want to watch her open her present. Abe seemed quite eager for her to reveal the very thing he had given, leaning his chin on his clasped hands as he leant closer, his elbows pressing into the table's surface. Bianca took the top off the box and saw that there was something wrapped in red velvet inside. She threaded her thumb underneath it, pulling it out.

"Be careful now," Abe warned.

She almost wanted to not be, just so she could do something that wasn't what he was telling her. She began peeling the fabric away, and once the lights caught on the metal she dropped it to the table as if it had caught fire. The velvet fell away showing the pointy tip and glistening metal of the dagger lying upon it. Hurt, confused, and even a little angry she stared at her 'present', her gaze soon travelling back up to Abe's face as she realised she was seeing correctly and it wasn't just some illusion. He was happy. She could see it on his face, in his eyes. What did he expect from her? The same kind of jubilation? He couldn't honestly believe she'd find that useful. It wasn't something you gave to a fifteen year old. It wasn't something you gave to anyone. There was a prickling sensation riding up the back of her neck. She felt as if everyone was watching her now, seeing the weapon on the table, jumping to all kinds of conclusions over what it was doing there and what kind of danger now surrounded them. Bianca fumbled to cover the dagger back up, pushing it back towards Abe as if she was rejecting the gift and every bit of its existence. He covered it with his own heavy hand and pushed it back towards her, the joy leaving his face as his expression became serious once more.

"You're going to use this," he said authoritatively. Bianca immediately became anxious. "That man over by the bar, in the corner, he's been working undercover for some lower levels demons, but taking a bit of his own on the side. You're going to kill him. We'll be waiting for you outside."

Bianca's stomach turned, her heart thumping in her chest as Abe made good on his word, getting up and leaving her on her own with her 'gift' lying on the table before her. She glanced over her shoulder to the back corner where the bar met the wall, seeing a man sitting on his own having a quiet drink. She looked back to the covered dagger, wondering what exactly she should do. Should she warn the man? Should she just do what Abe was telling her to? She didn't even know how to kill someone. At least she knew why her mother had left now; Abe had wanted her to do this on her own. She was wrapped up in the heights of anxiety and confusion, the only thing she felt capable of doing was pushing her chair back. As she did so it seemed the man had caught on to what was going on, even if she was still lost. She stood, picking up the weapon with the fabric still wrapped around it, taking a step towards the man who by now appeared to be a little frightened. Before she even reached him he vaulted over the bar and ran for the back room, knocking one of the bartenders on the way. Instinct took over and she did the same, leaping from the chair to the bar surface and over to the other side. She chased him through what looked to be the kitchen, but could have been a storeroom for all she knew. It was a blur of metal objects and white walls. The velvet managed to snag on something as she ran, yanking everything from her hand. The metal dagger clattered against the floor and she stopped, glancing back to see the red velvet hanging from some extended object, waving like a red flag. Her breathing short, she took a step back and collected the dagger from the floor, leaving the velvet where it was. She'd lost sight of the man now, but as she rounded the corner she saw there was another doorway. Pushing it open she found it led out to a back alley somewhere. She looked up and down the length of the alley, spying two shadowed figures near the end. She headed that way, recognising the forms as her mother and Abe, feeling a little embarrassed that she had lost sight of the man. As she came closer she saw there was a third figure lying on his back on the ground – the man she had been chasing. He tried to move away from them, but Bianca could see it was a seemingly futile cause. Something appeared to be wrong with his legs. Abe stood at the man's feet, and Bianca had no doubt that he may have had something to do with that. Lyn raised her hand and generated an energy ball. The man on the ground held up his hands, turning his head to the side and squeezing his eyes closed. Abe grabbed her wrist, pulling it down.

"No, Lyn, she has to do it. She has to learn," he said.

"Learn what?" Bianca asked desperately, hoping he'd lie to her, that this was all just a bad dream she was going to wake up from any moment.

"You know what you have to do," Abe said, stepping aside.

"No, I don't! I don't know what you want from me!" she cried.

"See, this is why I told you not to keep her from this for so long," Abe said to Lyn.

"Bianca, sweetie, just do your job," Lyn coaxed. "It won't hurt."

Reminded of those same words from when she was nine, Bianca felt slightly more at ease. Unsteadily she took a step forward, looking down at the fearful face of the man, the dagger loose in her hand. She crouched down next to him, wanting to offer him a little help or kindness but not knowing how to deliver it. She needed to convince herself this was right, and the only peace of mind she could offer to herself was that his legs were so damaged he probably would never be able to walk again. By doing this she would spare him some pain and misery.

She looked away as she brought down the dagger, the point embedding into his chest. Nothing seemed to happen. It was if the world had become still. She looked back to the man, just to assure herself she had actually done something. She could see the blood starting to slowly seep up through his clothes, circling where the dagger was sitting. The man coughed, as if breaking the silence, Bianca closing her eyes as she felt something wet hit her face.

"Oh, seriously Lyn, didn't you teach her anything?" Abe bellowed. "If she was going to torture the guy, sure, but this was a straight kill through and through. She's just punctured his lung; she didn't kill him at all."

"Well if you'd let me finish it…" Lyn argued.

"No! Bianca, do it again. Do it and get it right this time!" Abe ordered.

Although she hadn't wanted to do it in the first place, Bianca felt ashamed that she'd managed to screw it up on her first try. She pulled the dagger back slowly, watching the blood bubble to the surface as it discovered new openings to the wound. Dagger in the air, she hesitated to do any more.

"To the right, Bianca. You need to hit the heart," Abe instructed. She could feel his eyes burning into her, knowing he was furious that she wasn't doing things right; that she wasn't even moving when he told her to. "Do it, Bianca. Do it!"

She cringed as his voice boomed at her, insisting she do it, shaking as if it was physically affecting her. The phrase kept repeating over in her mind until she closed her eyes, pulling her hand back to her shoulder and bringing the dagger down with twice as much force. It felt like she had just hit water, the feeling of something sinking, the spatter of droplets returning to hit her with the breaking of resistance. She opened her eyes, yanking the dagger out this time. More blood covered the man beneath her, and she saw to her surprise that he didn't disappear, not like the ones her mother killed, not like the demons they were meant to go after. Abe had fooled her into presuming he was one, but he wasn't. He was a human being, and she had just murdered him for whatever foul activities he had or had not committed. She absently wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and discovered it was bloody as well. Her skin had been stained with the residue of her first kill. It disgusted her, even scared her that she knew she was capable of doing this now. At least before she had been able to delude herself by not participating – not that she'd ever been given the choice before, it was only now things had just come to light, and still she had done what she'd been told.

She let the dagger fall to the ground, her hand opening wide as if she was too weak to be able to hold anything anymore, even to support her own limbs as her hand fell away. She stared vacantly at the ground, her mind blank, everything going completely numb.

"Take me home. Take me home, now," she said assertively.

Lyn nodded, pulling her to her feet, glancing at Abe as she took a step towards the exit. He turned his head towards the body lying on the ground, the bloody carcass of Bianca's first kill. There was no joy or sadness on his face, just that same serious look from when he had told Bianca to kill the man.

"I'll get the cleanup crew in," Abe said.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket as Lyn guided her daughter up the alleyway. Bianca wrapped her arms around herself, noticing as she did the time on her watch. It was seven past nine. This wasn't a birthday; it was never planned that way. It was just their sick idea of recruiting her into the Phoenix coven at the moment she turned fifteen.

They rode in silence all the way home. Bianca didn't know if she could crush herself any further against the door than she already was. She stared out the window as the scenery passed by, not one building or image registering in her mind. All she wanted was to just get away, get away from the blood, the shame, and the lies. She noticed her mother kept glancing over to her as she drove, probably wondering what she was thinking. Where her mother was concerned she doubted she could ever trust her again. Everything was a falsity when it came to her. The only thing Bianca craved at the moment was her bed where she could just wrap herself up in mindless dreams, where she could be carried away from the atrocities of tonight.

"Bianca, do you…?" Lyn started as they returned back to their apartment.

"No, I'm going to bed," Bianca said, already steps ahead of her as she headed for her room.

"I think you should get cleaned up," Lyn said softly.

Bianca stopped, looking down at the blood that caked around her fingernails; that was smeared in various patches across her skin. Without a word she turned back, avoiding her mother's eyes as she brushed past her and headed for the bathroom. She hopped into the shower, scrubbing at her skin, watching as it began to turn a little red both from the hot water and the intensity of her cleaning.

Her mother seemed to have disappeared when she got out, and she had to admit she was a little grateful for it. She dressed in her fresh, clean pyjamas and curled up under her sheets, pulling the quilt up tight against her chest. She closed her eyes, laying there for a few moments as she tried to convince herself to sleep. Her mind wasn't going to let her though; it suddenly became active at the quiet, replaying the scenes over and over in her mind. Hearing those same words, feeling those same feelings, the splatter of blood against her skin that she was sure she had washed off in the shower. It wouldn't leave her, the memory haunted her until her stomach churned and she had to climb back out of bed to find the bathroom. Hunkering over the toilet she found she couldn't even expel the contents of her stomach, dry retching being only the furthest she could reach. She collapsed to the floor, tears filling her eyes and spilling over her cheeks. No matter what she did she knew those memories weren't going to go away. She knew those feelings weren't going to go away – the helplessness, the revulsion, the shame, the pain of taking a human life, the hurt of having been lied to and tricked into a lifestyle she never wanted. She knew it wasn't going to disappear, not ever. It was here to stay now. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her head into her arms as she started to cry. Her throat choked up with the sobbing as the tears brushed her skin, and all the while she tried to keep herself quiet so her mother wouldn't think badly about her for being as weak as this.


	8. Chapter 8

**2015**

Bianca sat on the edge of the bunk, watching the boy in front of her attempting what one could only presume was meant to be breakdancing. As he tried to lift himself onto his hand from the floor, he collapsed unsuccessfully into a heap. A slight smile crossed Bianca's face as she observed his ridiculous manoeuvres. He bounded back to his feet, which didn't surprise Bianca in the least, and made a few hand gestures that would have looked smooth if done by a professional rapper, but came off looking abnormal with his slim, pale features. She knew the energetic seventeen year old was trying to pass off that the fall was all part of his routine, but he wasn't convincing. She shook her head at him and rolled her eyes away.

"What?" Danny asked. She looked back to him, amused. "You never know, I could be the next big thing. I can be the new Eminem or that Paul guy."

"Sure you can," she agreed lightly.

Her gaze fell to her feet and she dropped her head, watching her shoes hang motionless just above the ground as the smile faded from her face.

"Bianca, c'mon," he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of her. "It's just a med check. Nothing to worry about."

She grimaced, too consumed with her own thoughts to detect whether he'd noticed. He placed his hand gently on her knee and she glanced up.

"They'll go easy on you. First time and all that. Unlike me."

He grinned which did little to comfort her. She couldn't understand how he could be so cheerful about someone poking and prodding you for fifteen minutes. He picked up her hand from the edge of the bed, curling her fingers into a fist and then meeting it with his own.

"Peaknuckle?" he suggested.

Letting go of her wrist, her hand dropped to her lap and he took a step back, lowering his own. Seeing she was in no mood to play, he walked to the opposite end of the room, feeling deep into his back pockets and pulling out a small orange container, holding it up to her and shaking it lightly.

"Tic tac?" he asked.

"I thought we weren't supposed to eat," Bianca said questioningly. Danny looked the container over thoughtfully.

"Well, it's not food. These, these are cyanide tablets, special spy stuff, bite it in half and you can kill yourself just like that." He clicked his fingers in representation of quickness. "Very handy if you were captured by the enemy."

"Then… why would I want one? Especially now."

Danny looked intently over the container in his hand then back to Bianca giving a shallow nod of his head. "Good point."

He came up and sat beside her, his hands falling into his lap. She felt the thin mattress on top of the bunk sink a little. The platform beneath them was so hard she hardly imagined it to be an ideal place to sleep on. She felt Danny lean into her a little.

"Maybe we should poison the doctor," he whispered, jokingly.

"Maybe you should put those away," Bianca returned. She didn't want them both getting into trouble.

He emptied one of the small white capsules out into the palm of his hand, shoving the container into his back pocket as he threw the tic tac into his mouth and bit down.

"Oops," he said, realising what he had done. He gagged shortly, holding his hands to his throat as he collapsed back onto the bunk. With one last gasp he lay still, and then gave a fake cough. Bianca smacked his leg and he raised his head to look at her. "That's a really heartless way to treat someone who's dying."

"You're not dying," she said, leaning over him. Danny kicked his legs out and propelled himself back into a sitting position.

"Even so, you keep being that uncaring and you'll be the perfect assassin. A true Phoenix," Danny stated.

She watched him slide off the bunk and cross the room. She noticed he was putting more weight onto his left leg than the right.

"Did you get hurt again?" she asked. Danny screwed his nose up, turning back to her.

"Old injury. Think I aggravated it hitting the floor before," he explained. She looked at him sympathetically and he turned his head aside, summoning up that cheerfulness that he had only moments ago. "C'mon, let's do something fun."

"I think we'd have to get out of here for that," Bianca said vacantly.

"Okay," Danny agreed. When Bianca looked his way she saw he had disappeared. She stared at the empty space and saw him shimmer back in. "Shimmer in, shimmer out, shimmer in, shimmer out."

Bianca watched as he shimmered in and out, all the while saying what he was doing. It was like he had the attention span of a toddler. She had to admit he looked quite funny doing it, getting sillier with each shimmer by pulling a face or striking a strange pose.

"Danny!" she warned, laughing and looking nervously towards the door to make certain no-one was going to come in and catch him. He shimmered back in, stopping and grinning at her.

"Now there's the smile I wanted to see," he said, reaching out and tapping her chin lightly with his knuckle.

"Daniel, we're ready for you," the nurse called from the doorway.

"Chin up, kiddo," he said to Bianca.

Turning he followed the nurse through the doorway, chatting in a friendly manner as if he saw her every day. The door closed behind them and Bianca found herself alone again. She sighed. Playing the waiting game was long and boring. She swung her feet a little. It killed about thirty seconds of time. She glanced up to the wall looking to see if there was a clock around, but there wasn't. She figured the idea for that would be so whoever was waiting would lose all track of time and not realise they had been waiting as long as they were.

She heard a scream come through the doorway and her drifting thoughts snapped back to reality. Her head jerked toward the direction it was coming from, staring at the door where Danny had gone through not long ago. Concerned, she slid off the bunk and began walking towards it. The door opened and the nurse brought him out, one of his arms slung around her shoulders, her other hand supporting him around the waist as she helped him towards the bunk.

"Oh my god, Danny! What happened?" Bianca cried as he was half-dragged past her. He didn't look up, instead the nurse dumped him against the bed and took Bianca's arm to lead her inside.

"Your turn now Bianca," she said.

Bianca looked worriedly over her shoulder, resisting as much as she could the pull of the nurse. She didn't want to go in there now. If there was screaming, then there was pain. And if there was pain, there was definitely someone and something to inflict it. Danny undeniably looked worse coming out than when he'd gone in.

"Have a seat, Bianca," the doctor said.

She looked at him distrustfully, folding her arms across her chest as the nurse closed the door behind them. He walked back over to his desk and Bianca quickly looked around. It didn't look any different to a normal doctor's office – the mahogany desk, the bookshelf with a selected array of titles, the blank walls that were dressed with eye charts and medical certificates. Bianca could feel the nurse right behind her and knew if she didn't sit down the woman would probably push her down. They'd have to hold her down if they planned on torturing her too.

"Why did you want me here?" she asked as she slid into the seat near his desk, watching him adjust the head on one of his utensils. He leant down in front of her until he was at eye height.

"Relax, Bianca," he said. "It's just a simple ear, nose, throat check-up. We just want to make sure you're not sick."

"I'm not sick," she protested. He smiled. It was unsettling to see him do that.

"I'm glad to hear it. But I still have to check."

He placed his fingers on either side of her chin and pulled her mouth down, depressing her tongue with the wooden stick he placed on it. Letting her go he threw the stick out and then began shining a light in her eyes, then looking in her ears.

"What did you do to Danny?" she queried.

"Nothing out of the norm. He has to visit us regularly so we can help him keep up with the rest of the coven. He'll be back in peak condition in a few days."

"But I heard him screaming," she said.

"Well I never said it wasn't painful," the doctor explained. He straightened and looked down at her. "Seems like you're fine. You can go now."

Bianca escaped from the room as quickly as she could. Finding Danny still lying on the bunk she rushed over to his side, putting her hands on the edge and looking down at him. He had his eyes closed.

"Are you okay?" she asked with concern.

"Chipper," he grumbled.

She glanced behind her, leaning in a little closer and lowering her voice. "What did they do to you?"

"Cortisone injection," Danny explained. "Hurts like hell."

Her gaze travelled down to his leg then back up to his face. He still hadn't looked at her, seemingly more focused on counting the holes in the ceiling or whatever it was that captured his attention long enough to distract himself from everything around him. Eventually he turned his head to the side to look at her. He appeared distant, and she returned his look with an expression of sympathy.

"Is it going to be painful for long?" she questioned.

"Should settle down in a couple of days," he said.

"Are you going to be able to walk?"

"If you help me, sure."

He shifted off the bed, gently lowering his leg back to the floor, wincing with every movement. Bianca took his arm and draped it over her shoulders as she helped him up, leading him back towards the doorway that led out.

"Maybe you should have just taken the cyanide," she joked. He smiled. She was glad she had brought in a little light humour to help ease his pain.

* * *

Bianca walked down the corridor with the lights shining brightly overhead. The walls were bare and grey, much like all the rooms were, much like the living room in their apartment appeared to be. Phoenix's seemed to have a fondness for blandness.

"Hey, B!" she heard a voice yell out behind her. Turning her head she saw Danny running towards her, slowing to the same pace as her as he arrived at her side.

"I see you're feeling better," Bianca said, looking him up and down.

"When was I not?" he replied cheerfully, a bounce in his step as he walked next to her. She raised an eyebrow as she looked at him incredulously. He smiled reassuringly. "I'm feeling better than ever."

"Not sure if I believe you, but I'm glad all the same," she said.

"So where are we heading?" he asked.

"I don't know," Bianca replied honestly. "I was just strolling."

"Well don't get too inquisitive, you'll get yourself in trouble," he warned. She stared at him, trying to work out whether he was serious or not. A large grin spread across his face. "Hey, wanna come visit the big guy with me?"

"Who? Yogi Bear?" she queried. Danny laughed.

"Actually, he's big enough, isn't he? Probably eats the same amount too. But I think he'd rather be known as 'The Bear' like that wrestler on the WWF."

"I liked Boo-Boo personally," Bianca said.

"He's not little enough for that," Danny said with a smirk on his face. Looking up ahead he saw there were three people standing in the corridor in front of them. "And speaking of which, there's the big bear himself."

Bianca looked up to see three people standing in front of them. Abe was in the centre, to his right a tall, beautiful blonde, and on his left stood a slightly muscular man with long brown hair and a stern expression.

"Ah, Danny, about time you got here," Abe called out. Bianca and Danny stopped in front of the trio. "I'm assembling a team to go out tonight to Pier 39. We've received word that Montlear will be in that area. Now, there's a large bounty on his head, and he's very dangerous, that's why I'm sending a group of you to annihilate him. So you can go with Katerina, Michael can look after you." Abe's steely gaze fell on Bianca. "And why don't you take Bianca with you. It'll do her good to get some field experience."

Bianca shrank back and felt Danny's steady hands fall on her shoulders. All the while she stared at Abe, at the man who had thought it was such a brilliant idea to initiate her into the coven in such a bloody and violent way all those months ago. Now he was sending her out after someone who she would be helpless against. He'd not even attempted to train her in anything, instead passing her from one person to another to make sure she was in perfect health and perfect condition for whatever battle he was planning to put her on. And today seemed to be the day, of all days, the celebration of America's independence, a day to celebrate freedom and instead he was using it to taunt her with how little freedom she really did have by illustrating the kind of power he had over her to put her into these situations.

"But… I don't even know how to fight," she said quietly. He turned his back and walked away. Annoyed at his ignorance she raised her voice to shout after him. "You haven't even trained me!"

"You should have learnt earlier. Blame your mother," he called back without turning.

Danny rubbed her shoulder twice then took a step back, unfastening a cloth bracelet from around his wrist. Again he took Bianca's shoulders and turned her to face him, lowering himself to her height as he gripped the bracelet in-between his hand and her shoulder.

"Hey, it'll be okay. I'll look out for you." He pulled back and held his bracelet out towards her. "Take this. It's my good luck charm."

"Danny, no," she said, shaking her head as she looked at it.

"Take it," he said again, more sternly, thrusting his hand towards her more earnestly. "It's helped me out of some tough situations, and maybe it can help you out to. I don't want you getting hurt out there." His lips curled up into a smile. "C'mon, take it. I can do without it. I'm a big boy, I can look after myself."

"Okay, but I give it back tomorrow," she said, pulling it gently from his hands.

"As soon as the sun rises," he said with a wink.

She lowered her eyes to her wrist as she tried to fasten it around with one hand, Danny quickly taking the ends from her and doing it himself as she turned her wrist up to face him. He pulled it tight enough so that it was secure, but loose enough for it to still have a little space between her wrist and the cloth, letting it hang loosely around the base of her palm as she lowered her hand.

"So shall we go into this with a plan, or do we prefer to freelance?" Katerina asked.

Bianca turned her head up towards the woman. She couldn't have been much older than herself, or even Danny. She had a very youthful appearance, despite her height and stylishness. She was all in black, her long blonde hair wound into a bun and fastened with a single red flower. She seemed as if she were ready to embark on the mission right now.

"It would be wiser to have a plan," Michael said. Bianca looked towards him, and then back to Katerina.

"Sorry, how rude of me. I should introduce myself. My name is Katerina Frost," she said, offering her hand to Bianca. Bianca caught sight of Danny rolling his eyes as she reached out to shake the other woman's hand. "I don't believe I've met you before. I spend most of my time frequenting between here and Europe."

"I'm Bianca," Bianca said. "Bianca Lawson."

Katerina let go of Bianca's hand, stepping back and looking the young girl over. Raising her eyebrows she glanced over to Michael.

"Well I should say it's a privilege to meet the daughter of two of our finest. Mind you what happened to…" she stopped suddenly, settling uncomfortably into silence. Her eyes on Michael, Bianca turned to look at the man but his face was expressionless.

"I really think we should leave Bianca on the sidelines," Danny spoke up. "I mean, she's got no skills, it'd be best to have you and me on the front-lines taking the barrage of attacks. Or even Michael, he's the fully skilled assassin."

"I was only given orders to supervise," Michael said coldly. "The rest is up to you."

"Yeah, let the young ones handle it," Danny scoffed. "Doesn't matter how skilful or unskilful we are."

"We'll assemble back here in an hour," Michael instructed, ignoring Danny. He turned and left, Katerina soon following him up the hallway.

"Happy birthday, Danny. Here's your next kill," Danny grumbled.

Bianca looked at him sadly, knowing exactly what he meant, feeling that dread again build up inside her that she had felt on the day of her first kill. That had been a nice birthday surprise as well, but the way Danny sounded it was more than just coincidence that they would schedule it that way, it was routine.

* * *

Pier 39 was alight with activities as hundreds of people filed in to commence the Fourth of July celebrations. Amongst the crowd four darkly dressed figures waded their way through the group until they were inside the complex.

"Don't suppose we have time to go shopping?" Danny joked. Michael gave him a stern look. "What about arcade games?"

"We have one night to do this, Danny. You must focus," Katerina hissed.

"She's right," Michael agreed. "And as far as you're concerned, it should be simple. This is an extremely crowded place, so we should blend in well. And I think it's best if we leave the heavy firepower until the fireworks. The noise will distract from anything we're doing."

Bianca watched as a few young children ran past her. Most of them were heading for the rides or, as Danny had suggested, to the arcade. They passed a number of street performers on the way in. There were a number of jugglers. One she saw had set his batons alight and was subsequently tossing them before demolishing the flames in his mouth. Lifting her head she could just make out off the coast and into the bay the shape of Alcatraz. Music began to drift along the gentle breeze as the bands started playing for the night.

"Where are we going exactly?" Bianca whispered to Danny as she followed him past more entertainers and through another thick cluster of crowd.

"Not the arcade, apparently," Danny sneered.

"Keep an eye out for anything suspicious," Michael said absently, his eyes already scanning the crowd around them.

"What, like that?" Danny questioned, pointing to a man with long grey hair levitating above the San Francisco skyline inside the Magic Carpet ride attraction without use of strings or anything similar to hold him up.

"Move, move!" Michael ordered, pushing them all towards the attraction.

They all dashed inside. Seeing the four assassins beneath him, Montlear quickly disappeared. Katerina put her hands on her hips, closing her eyes in concentration. Michael watched her steadily, waiting to see what she could come up with. Oblivious to what was going on behind them, Bianca and Danny were instead staring at the place where he had been levitating and which was now empty.

"He's on the roof," Katerina announced after a short period time, smirking at the fact that she was able to detect him so easily.

Michael was first to shimmer out, then Katerina. Danny took Bianca's arm as he started walking back to them, shimmering them both up to the roof. Bianca looked around briefly. The darkness had already taken over the skyline and night had befallen much too quickly.

"Stay here," Danny said, pushing Bianca behind a small cement alcove that emerged from the roof, more than likely the place where the large air-conditioning unit was installed to combat with the terrible summer heat they had been exposed to that year.

"Oh, how nice. Should I feel privileged I had a whole group sent after me?" Montlear queried. "Or are you just so terribly close you couldn't bear to fight apart from one another?"

Bianca glanced over to the corner and saw Michael standing in the shadows on the far side of the rooftop. Looking over to Katerina as Danny moved away from her, Bianca saw her eyes slide to the side to look at Michael, a noticeable glint shining in them as an amused smile crossed her face. Danny spread his arms wide, boldly taking a few more steps towards Montlear.

"C'mon, wise-ass. Show us some of those magic moves you've got up your sleeve," he said.

"Gladly," Montlear answered, thrusting his hand forward and allowing a cool jet of ice to blast from it. Danny dodged to the side.

"Gotta do better than that," Danny taunted.

"Do you want me to make this a fairer fight?" Montlear asked. "Shall I bring a few Neanderthals to join us?"

"Katerina," Danny sang out behind him. "A little help would be nice."

Bianca turned her attention from Danny and Montlear back to Katerina and found she wasn't even watching what was going on. She was too busy signalling to Michael and from what Bianca could read it wasn't just about what was going on in front of them. Katerina broke her gaze from Michael's, seeing Montlear begin to rise in the air. She shimmered out, reappearing behind him and grabbing the back of his jacket, yanking him back down to the ground. He lifted his arm, throwing it backwards, effectively making contact with her face. Her head swung to the side with the impact, her grip loosening enough for him to step forward and pull away from her.

"That's hardly a nice way to treat a fellow witch," Montlear said.

Danny conjured a rope, masterfully tying a knot and tossing it towards Montlear, waiting for it to settle in the air before trying to use his powers to wrap it around him. The spiral of rope fell coiled to the ground as Montlear again vanished, appearing just a metre in front of Danny. Startled, he took a step back, and then another as Montlear followed him. Panic was evident on his face as he tried to think of something he could do to stop someone advancing on him from such a close proximity. Raising his hand he managed to conjure an energy ball and tossed it forward.

"Why you're nothing but a baby," Montlear commented, inspecting Danny's face closely, waving his hand to deflect the ball he had thrown. It fell by Michael's feet but he remained motionless. "I'm getting tired of this; I doubt you had a plan. You should just leave me be."

"Not with the bounty on your head," Katerina called.

Montlear glanced over his shoulder at the tall blonde, making his way back to her, shifting his gaze to Danny once more as he backed up. Danny stepped up onto the ledge, giving himself some height leverage over the man. His gaze nervously switched from Montlear to Bianca as he saw him getting rather close to where she was. Montlear caught a glimpse of her behind the rise. Lifting his hand he slowly began to raise her in the air. Bianca kicked her legs fruitlessly, not knowing what she should do.

"I have to wonder if your interest is more with me, or with her?" Montlear questioned.

"Put her down!" Danny shouted.

"Whatever you say," Montlear responded, flicking his hand to the side. Bianca flew backwards, hitting the wall of the building hard. She grimaced at the pain that suddenly coursed along her back as she crashed to the ground. Montlear's eyes locked on Danny's and he smiled cruelly. "Any other requests?"

"So you can twist them around? I don't think so," Danny said.

"Okay," Montlear shrugged. "Well I have one. I call upon the ancient power to help me in this darkest hour, take his power take it all, and set this witch up for a fall."

Montlear's hand outstretched towards him, Danny's body jolted as a thin stream of light drained out of him and travelled to Montlear's fingertips. Danny looked backwards over the edge of the building. Lights fired in the sky as the fireworks exploded over the bay. Below them people were staring up in awe, cheering, taking no notice of the lights and sounds on top of this building where they currently were. No matter how hard Danny tried he couldn't keep his balance. His arms flailed out as he tried to right himself, but instead he tumbled backwards over the edge.

"No, Danny!" Bianca cried out, pushing herself up, ignoring the ache in her muscles as she dashed for the edge.

"Now, you," Montlear said, turning around to Katerina and strolling confidently towards her.

Bianca peered down onto the pathway below. Danny was lying motionless in an awkward position. She knew he wouldn't have survived the fall. Even if he had, she knew he would never be the same. But from the crowd that was beginning to gather below, and the steady trail of blood that was travelling in small rivulets out from under his body towards them, it was an obvious certainty that he had met his end. Bianca turned back, her hands gripping the edge. She watched as Katerina skilfully conjured an athame into her hand lowering herself and circling Montlear as if she was re-enacting Michael Jackson's 'Beat It' video.

"I don't think you did your research on me too well," Montlear said, waving his hand in a closing motion. The athame disappeared from her hand and she looked at her empty palm quickly. "You otherwise would have known that it is not that easy to get rid of me, but it is you."

Katerina didn't seem to see what had happened, but Bianca saw the athame glisten in Montlear's palm now. He grabbed her shoulder and with one short thrust had the point buried deep inside her abdomen. The blonde keeled over in surprise and Montlear pulled up and away from her body, slicing the front completely open. Blood spilled over his feet and he pushed her body aside, shaking his feet as if it was only rainwater that hit his shoes. He started walking back towards Bianca. All she wanted to do was rush at him, hit him for doing what he did, and even hurt him more if she could manage to wrestle the athame from his grasp. Montlear held his hand up and started to spray the ice stream towards her this time. Bianca felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her to one side and shimmering her out of there. They reappeared at the entrance of Pier 39, a van already waiting for them by the roadside. Michael opened the back door, pushing Bianca in before leaping in himself and closing it behind them. The van moved away as he sat across from her, staring vacantly out the front window as they sped down the Embarcadero.

"What? Why are we leaving?" Bianca asked, confused.

"We had to abort. He had the upper hand," Michael explained.

"But…" She stared at his face. It was emotionless. She couldn't even remember seeing a single expression cross it since she had met him. Remembering the look Katerina had given him she decided to try a different tactic. "You left Katerina to die. Why didn't you attack him for what he did? Why did you save me and no-one else?"

Michael's gaze shifted back to her, serious and cold. "She was a lost cause. And I wasn't going to risk another life at the expense of a little revenge. We need all the recruits we can get."

He looked back out the front window, his body settling back against the edge of the van as they turned another corner. Bianca lowered her head, her fingers finding the cloth bracelet Danny had given her, turning it absently as she again saw his body splattered against the concrete at the base of the building in her mind's eye.

"We can't go back for them?" she asked softly.

"Someone will clean it up." He leaned his head towards his shoulder as if his neck was stiff. "I'll have to fill out a report when I get back. I won't tell them I got you out of there; I'll tell Abe you did it by yourself. It might give you enough credit to buy you some more time before your next mission."

Her eyes lifted to look at him and she smiled bleakly. "Thanks."

As much as she knew it was only a simple gesture and something easy for him to accomplish, the fact that he'd even thought about her enough to do that for her, even to save her from the same ill fate that had met the others as he had done so before, convinced her that there was some amount of kindness behind the indifference of the man. She didn't have Danny any more, but she knew to some degree she could trust Michael, and to have one person in that entire place she could trust was enough.


	9. Chapter 9

**2015** _cont._

"Sit here, Bianca," Lyn instructed, pushing her daughter down onto the bench as she walked over to Abe.

Bianca sat sullenly, paying no mind to what was going on with Abe and her mother, focusing all concentration on spinning the bracelet around her wrist. She pulled it one way then pushed it the other way, smiling as she remembered all the good times she'd shared with Danny. He was the kind of guy that could brighten up any situation. He was the only true friend she'd ever had. There was no keeping secrets from him, he knew anything and everything and a little bit more. And now he was gone. The one time he'd decided to stop wearing his lucky charm, the one time he had given it over to her, and his luck had transferred in the same fashion as the bracelet, dooming him with his own cruel fate while saving her when she had done practically nothing.

"I'm quite impressed with the skill of your daughter," Abe said to Lyn. "Michael tells me that she was the only one to survive Montlear's attacks. He said she handled herself accordingly, choosing all the right moments to act upon, and even discovering a means of escape when there was none. It seems despite your lack of training her she's extremely intuitive as she was the night of her recruitment. If we can develop and enhance those skills and knowledge from the minimal amount she knows now, she could possibly become one of the best assassins we've ever seen."

"If you're suggesting I do something about it, I don't have the time or tenacity to deal with that anymore," Lyn said, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm not as young as I used to be, Abe. I wouldn't be able to keep up."

"No, I know, I wasn't suggesting you train her. I was thinking more along the lines of Michael," Abe mused, stroking his chin. "He's the most advanced assassin we have around here, save for a few. Now that we lost Katerina, it's not as if he doesn't have time for Bianca. She'd be a fitting replacement."

Lyn frowned. "That's what worries me."

Abe shook his head. "It's not as if I'm going to send her abroad. Katerina's family was in France, Bianca's is here. She's not going anywhere. Michael's quite worldly, I'm sure she will be able to excel under his study."

"Bianca!" Lyn called out. She glanced up. "Sweetie, come here. Abe has something he wants you to do."

"I'm not going out again," Bianca said vehemently, not moving at all from the bench as she was told to.

"You needn't worry about Montlear, my dear. He's obviously more trouble than we first thought," Abe said. "I've sent someone a little more experienced after him now. But I want to talk to you about your training."

"I'm not training. I'm not doing this again."

Lyn cast a discouraging look towards Abe then walked back to her daughter and sat beside her, placing a reassuring arm across her shoulders.

"I don't think you're appreciating what we're doing here for you," Abe said as he walked closer towards her. "And you should lose that insolence before it gets you into any more trouble."

Bianca felt her mother rubbing her shoulder encouragingly. "Honey, you know this is the best thing for you. Knowing how to handle yourself in a dangerous situation is quite a benefit to have."

"Knowledge and skills are the best attributes an assassin can have," Abe agreed. Bianca closed her eyes and lowered her head. The word sounded so bitter coming from his lips. She hated it, and she hated the glee in which he took in using it. "I'm placing you in Michael's care. I trust you'll find him useful."

Bianca quickly looked up in astonishment. Of all the things he liked to deprive her of, of all the situations he thrust her into to claim his ideal grand prize, whatever it was he was aiming to frustrate her with and please himself, he was giving her the one and only thing she could truly want at this moment. The only thing that was physically possible at least. He was giving her more time with Michael. Albeit it may have been for his own Machiavellian purposes, but in effect he was allowing her to go through all this horror with the solitary Phoenix who was on her side.

"Thank you," she said, surprised to hear the words coming out of her mouth.

As if he was even surprised to hear her say those words, the dark man appeared quite humbled. Lyn smiled in a grateful way to see her daughter conceding on some point.

"That's better," Abe said, trying to regain some kind of authority.

"So when is she starting all this?" Lyn asked, as if Bianca wasn't sitting right beside her at all.

"No time like the present," Abe answered with a nod. "He'll probably be in the training room. I'm sure that's his second home, if not his first."

Abe watched Lyn as she got to her feet, stepping to the side and heading back to where he had been before. Bianca, still reluctant to go anywhere, had to be hauled to her feet and dragged the first few paces by her mother before she gave in and followed Abe herself.

They made their way up the corridor, turning a few bends before reaching another narrow hallway and stopping outside the third door. Abe gripped the handle in his hand and pushed the door open. Sure enough Michael was inside the large room. There were rounded, padded targets set up in various positions and heights across the floor. Michael stood in the centre of the room powering an energy ball into his hand, turning quickly and pitching it towards one of the targets. Before it had travelled an arms length from his body he powered up another, throwing his arm to the side and letting the ball glide from his palm towards the target in that direction, not even looking to see how accurate he was. Surveying the room, Bianca saw a great majority of the target pads had scorch marks on them - all dead centre. Michael did not miss.

"Michael!" Abe shouted. Michael stopped, lifting his gaze from the floor and to the side to inspect the new arrivals. "Give it ten," Abe instructed. Michael slowly lowered his hand but other that that remained unmoving. "You know Bianca, Lyn."

Michael didn't even batt an eyelid. There was no acknowledgement to the introduction, no sign of movement, not even a change of expression. Bianca shifted her stance, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Abe took a commanding step forward, ignoring the man's rudeness and lack of emotive reaction.

"I know you have some spare time on your hands now. Katerina was a detrimental loss to the coven. I would like you to take Bianca on in her steed. Under your training I'm certain she'll become a fine assassin."

Michael blinked, his gaze shifting over to her. Normally she would have felt exposed if someone was staring at her with that kind of intensity, but instead she found she was inspired with curiosity, looking over his face for a sign, wondering what thoughts lay beyond those eyes.

"You did, after all, say that she had potential," Abe added, as if to seal the argument.

Bianca saw the very edge of Michael's lip curve up slightly. Seemingly the small change in expression went unnoticed by the others, but Bianca could see the amusement reflected in his eyes. He was enjoying the fact that she and he were holding some secret over the big guns. She smiled back gratefully.

"If she's not too much trouble, I'm sure I could find a session or two," Michael said indifferently.

"Well I'll leave you to it," Abe said, pulling the door open. "Lyn."

Sweeping his hand towards the open doorway, Lyn began to walk towards him, glancing back over her shoulder at Bianca. Bianca folded her arms, watching as they both disappeared through the entryway, the door swinging closed behind them. Strolling over to Michael, she stopped in front of him. He still hadn't moved.

"Looks like you're stuck with me," she said, half-jokingly.

"I don't mind," Michael said, stepping to the side and walking away from her. She watched as he moved one of the padded targets aside.

"What first? Target practice?" she questioned, thinking they'd probably just do what he had been doing when they walked in.

"No," he said, picking up a small white towel from the bench, wiping first his face and then his arms with it. "First you learn the basics."

"And what are they?"

Her eyes widened as she saw him returning with a sharp dagger in his hand. She took an uneasy step back, not sure what he was doing. Roughly he grabbed her hand and lifted her arm into the air, sliding the cold steel against her skin so that it was under Danny's cloth bracelet. With one tug, the bracelet snapped in two and fluttered to the ground.

"First rule, you don't wear things that can catch on something. No jewellery, no watches, nothing that can catch or be caught. If it even picks up the slightest piece of thread, or mysteriously falls apart, it could leave something that leads the cops back to our coven. Prime rule of witchery, you don't expose magic to the public. Got it?"

Feebly she nodded, still stunned at what he had done. That was Danny's bracelet, his good luck bracelet. He'd always worn it. Michael had no qualms about her wearing it on the last mission. How could this be a rule? Why was he only telling her now?

"Secondly, don't leave your hair out." He raised his hands. She saw they were empty now, but she still flinched when he touched her head, brushing her hair back with his fingers and twirling it around into a ponytail. She felt a bit odd but somehow she didn't mind. He was standing awfully close to her, and strangely what he was doing felt nice. Holding the ponytail with one hand, he pulled back the other and showed her a short stick, sharpened at one end. It looked like a thick kind of chopstick but Bianca knew people wore them in their hair. She had seen it one time when her mother had taken her to Chinatown. "Keep it short, or tied back. Katerina often had one of these to tie her hair with, it doubled as a weapon. But I wouldn't recommend it for you just yet. You're not that advanced." Putting her hair up, he drew back. "Just make sure you brush it regularly and keep it up. We don't want you leaving any trace evidence around to identify you. The key to being a good assassin is to be silent and deadly, and to leave as if nothing had been disturbed. Only people who need us know about us. Your job is to earn that bounty in the most invisible way that you can."

"But I…" Bianca began softly. What was she getting herself into? She didn't want to do this. But she could see she had lost Michael's attention as he once again walked away from her to another part of the room.

"Third rule - knowledge is fundamental. Know your target. Know their movements. Study them enough to have their schedules, their powers, their habits, and any other necessary information stored up here for when you need it." He turned back to look at her, tapping the side of his head. "You can't carry books around with you. You need to keep a clear mind. You need to focus. You need to learn everything by heart and use it when necessary. You'll have to learn the physical and the mental. The emotional you'll adapt to yourself."

"This isn't a continual thing though, right?" she asked. He didn't answer. Desperation rose in her at his silence. "Right? I can just walk away from this."

"You don't walk away from this," Michael said harshly as he steamed back towards her. "You were born into this. You have no choice. This," he said, taking her left arm and pulling it out towards him, brushing his thumb across the birthmark, "is the reason you are here. Rule four – you respect the Phoenix coven and obey all orders, otherwise you end up like your father."

Bianca's eyes darkened. "What do you know about my father?"

"I know he valued himself over anyone else, and that his independence brought him down."

"You're a liar," Bianca seethed, yanking her arm away, hurt to hear someone disgrace a man so special to her.

"You're living the lie, Bianca. Everything is not as you believe. Your father wasn't killed by just any randomised witch, warlock or demon. He was killed by his own kind. The Phoenix killed him."

"You murderer! You fucking bastard!" Bianca shouted, lashing out at him with her hands, hitting him in the chest. Despite the power and force of her anger improving her strength, Michael was fairly undeterred, stepping back slightly to keep his balance, reaching forward and seizing her wrists as she went to attack him again, gripping them firmly in his hands to keep her from doing any further damage as he brought her in closer, giving her a stone-cold uncaring look as the tears streaked her face. "You killed my father!"

"Think about it, Bianca. How many years have passed since that day? Do you really think I could have had anything to do with it?" He loosened his grip slightly, looking at her sternly. "Use that. You'll need it. But don't do that again."

Choking on her tears she felt him release her arms as he walked away from her. Absently she lifted a hand and brushed the back along her cheek as she watched him.

"Rule five – look after your hands. They're the best weapons you have. You have to prepare for any situation; you can't rely on weapons or powers all the time. If it comes down to hand to hand combat there are a few things you should know." He sat on the bench, clasping his hands as he stared back at her. Sniffling, Bianca wiped the tears from her eyes. "There are several places on the human body that you should target. The nose is one of the most vulnerable areas to aim for. Strike along the bridge with the knife edge of your hand," he instructed, lifting his own hand and using the opposite finger to run it down the side and show her what he meant, "to cause sharp pain, temporary blindness, breakage, and if your blow is hard enough you may even be able to kill someone that way." He tilted his hand back. "A more efficient way is to use the heel of your hand. Push it in an upwards motion to shove the bone into the brain. Death will be instantaneous."

"Anything else?" she asked softly, looking down at the floor, wanting nothing more than to leave right this minute, her stomach turning at the revulsion of it all.

"The ears. Approach your target from behind, cup your hands and clap them together violently at the sides of the head. The air pressure will be disturbed, and the vibrations will cause enough damage to burst the eardrums. Once that's done, internal bleeding will start, and death will be imminent."

"Weaponless, powerless," Bianca mulled over the words in her mind. She didn't have the physical strength to do any of the things he was talking about.

"If you're striking somewhere other than the head, try a lower point such as the kidneys. There's a large nerve that branches off to the spinal cord, surfacing against the skin around the kidney area. Again, the knife edge of your hand can come in handy if you connect it at that point." Michael noticed her distance. "Bianca, are you listening?"

"Mmm," she mumbled in response.

"You need to know this. This isn't a game, Bianca. It's real and it's dangerous. You do what you do to survive, and you need both the skill and the knowledge if you want to succeed. I'm not wasting my time on someone who doesn't want to reach her full potential."

"I'm not…"

"Not what? A killer? You're no better than the rest of us, Bianca. Stop denying who you really are. You already have blood on your hands, else you wouldn't be here," he said. She lifted her head and looked towards him, knowing he was right. "You just have to stick with me, that's all you've got to do. The Phoenix frown upon those who try to break away. Do things on our terms and you won't be cancelled like your father."

"There's no end to this," she said softly, realising now that she was trapped. There was no way out of this lifestyle.

"No," Michael answered shortly. Silence filled the room as the thought settled. "So what do you know of your powers?"

"I can disappear and move from one place to another quickly."

"Shimmering?" he asked. She nodded. "Come here."

Bianca began to walk across the room but stopped mid-stride when she saw him tilt his head. Suddenly she understood what he had meant. Taking another step she shimmered out and reappeared directly in front of Michael.

"Good," he said, reaching out and taking her hand, turning her palm in his fingers so it faced up. "Do you know how to create an energy ball?" She shrugged. "Focus your mind. Picture it in your hand – spherical, powerful, full of energy. Charge it with your emotions." He saw something flicker in her hand. "That's it. Just a little bit more."

The spark broadened, dividing and circling upwards into a rounded shape. It crackled and pulsed like white and blue fire.

"That's right?" she asked timidly.

"That's right. Now aim for that target over there and we'll see how good your hand-eye coordination is."

Bianca turned to look at the target, surveying it, wanting the shot to be perfect. She glanced down at the energy ball in her palm, imagining it was a baseball or some other small ball she'd had experience with throwing; only she knew this felt much lighter, more transparent like air, and something that seemed to move of its own accord. Drawing her hand back she pitched it at the target, watching as it scorched one of the outer rings.

"Needs some practice, but we'll work on it. So long as you can shimmer and conjure those, then you know the basics."

"Bianca?" Kate called, peering into the room. Seeing her standing near the back with Michael, she smiled and stepped further inside, brushing her hands on the legs of her pants. "Hi Michael."

"Kate," he said with a nod.

"Good to see you. I've just come to pick up Bianca, take her back to my place." She combed her hair behind her ears as she walked closer to them, stopping short of reaching them and offering her hand to her niece. "C'mon Bianca."

"He did care about someone else you know. He cared about me," Bianca said, turning to look at Michael as she stepped towards her aunt. "He cared enough to save me. He's not a traitor."

"If that's what you need to believe to do this, then do so," Michael said. "When you go out there, you tell yourself whoever you're targeting that they killed your father. It'll be enough to spur you on."

"Bianca," Kate said, taking her hand this time, looking disapprovingly at Michael. "Let's go."

Bianca stared at Michael as Kate pulled her away. As they neared the door, he turned and busied himself by removing his shoes and packing them into a bag with the loose white towels he had earlier discarded. Bianca's sneakers crunched over the gravel that lay about the outside of the main headquarters as she followed her aunt to her car. Kate took great strides across the ground, jingling the car keys in her hand as she walked. Bianca picked up her pace to keep up.

"Have you known him long?" she asked.

"Who?" Kate returned.

"Michael."

"A little while."

"What's he like?"

"Exactly as he seems." Kate stopped by the car door, slipping the keys into the lock and turning it. She opened up the door, leaning on the edge as she watched Bianca walk around to the other side. "He's quite a skilful instructor. You're lucky to have him. Despite some of his tactfully bad advice, he does know what he's doing, and he's good at it. You'll have to trust him."

"I'll try," Bianca said, climbing into the passenger seat. Kate got in the driver's side and started up the engine.

"I think my fridge is empty," Kate said absently. "We'll have to pick up something on the way home. So, your choice, you direct, I'll drive."

Bianca smiled, switching on the radio. She loved that about her Aunt Kate, that everything was so free about her. She could do anything she wanted, go anywhere she pleased, and Bianca thought that perhaps if she became as good a Phoenix as her, life would be better after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**2016**

"Bianca, wake up," Lyn said, standing in the doorway of Bianca's bedroom. Bianca groaned, burying her head further into the pillow. "Bianca!"

Bianca lifted her head, slightly opening an eye to look at the clock, waiting for the blurriness to go away. When her vision cleared enough she saw it was four o'clock in the morning. She dropped her head back onto the pillow.

"Too early," she mumbled, the pillow muffling her words.

"Michael's at the front door. You've got a job to do."

"Can't we do it tomorrow?"

"Bianca, get up now before I make you."

Bianca lifted her head and stared directly at her mother. "What are you going to do? Burn the bed?"

"Don't try me," Lyn said, holding out her hand and powering up an energy ball.

Bianca groaned, shifting her body, and finally pushing herself into a seated position on the edge of the bed.

"Happy now?" she asked.

Lyn put the ball out, turning and leaving the room. Bianca slipped her feet into the furry slippers that sat on the floor at the side of her bed, rubbing her eyes as she shuffled her way into the living room.

"You're not dressed?" Michael asked incredulously, as if it was midday and she should have been up for hours.

"I just got up. Why would I be? It's four am," Bianca retorted.

"Job's not over. I would expect you to be ready at any hour," Michael explained. She groaned. "Well hurry then, he's on the move already."

Dragging herself back to her bedroom, she opened the closet and stared blankly at the clothes. She didn't know what to wear. Pulling something random and warm to combat the cold weather from the hanger, she tossed it onto the bed, searching around in one of the drawers for a thick pair of socks. Changing quickly, she began to feel a little more awake as she made her way back out to Michael.

"Have fun!" Lyn called cheerfully as Michael guided her out the door. Bianca glared at her mother over her shoulder. If she was so chipper at this hour of the morning, then she should be the one going out instead so Bianca herself could claim some more shuteye.

Glancing around the hallway quickly, Michael shimmered them both out. Bianca opened her eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the darkness that surrounded the pier. Michael pushed her towards one of the warehouses and they slipped in through a slightly ajar door.

"So where is he?" she asked, her voice a little louder than a whisper. Michael pressed his finger to his lips and gave her a stern look.

"Be patient. He's in a vehicle, we're not. Shimmering is a much faster way to travel."

Bianca nodded, rolling her eyes. He was speaking to her as if she didn't know anything. She knew she was still half-asleep, but he didn't have to belittle her like that. Michael pushed her behind a heaped collection of crates and scaffolding, climbing over her legs to sit beside her. Bianca rested her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Michael shook her gently and she opened her eyes again.

"Stay alert," he said.

"He's not even here yet," she sighed. "Can't I just rest until he gets here?"

"No, you can't count on things going exactly to plan. You have to be ready for any obstacle that may come your way."

"It's so tiring. Why does it have to take so long?"

"You think this is long?" Michael scoffed, turning his head to look at her. "It's only been four days. Three years ago I was in Germany for six months. I spent forty days tracking a target through the back streets of Berlin. So don't tell me this is tough, because it's simple compared to that."

"You know I haven't been doing this long. Stop expecting me to know how everything is done."

"I'm not expecting you to know anything. That's why I'm advising you."

"My Aunt Kate says your advice isn't worth a penny," Bianca said snidely. Michael smirked.

"She would say that. She had to put up with me in Belgium for three weeks after."

"So you have known each other a while then."

"In a manner of speaking. Belgium was enjoyable. She's a fun girl to work with, not exactly the best, but she manages to fluke things quite well."

Bianca turned her head, lowering it a little to look at him. "What about me?"

"You're still on a learning curve," he responded.

Sliding his feet forward, he pressed his palms to the ground and lifted himself to his feet. Bianca looked up to him, confused.

"Where are you going?"

"You're no good in this condition. I'm going to get something to help you," Michael said, brushing his hands.

"To help me?" she repeated. With those words the only thought that struck her mind was the reminder of the clandestine actions of the medical department, and Danny screaming through the doorway as they 'helped' him. "Drugs?"

"No, coffee."

"Oh." She smiled, biting her lip as she looked down in embarrassment.

"Don't doze off in the meantime," Michael instructed, shimmering out and leaving her on her own.

She lifted her head again, looking out across the empty warehouse. It was dark, pinpricks of moonlight shining through the cracks and high windows casting a pale glow over the rungs of scaffolding that stood towards the centre of the room. Planks of wood lay across some of them; others were just metal bars bare and naked without any coverings. The floor was obviously dusty, and the warehouse unused for quite a while. Bianca squirmed, thinking of the possibility of rats hiding out in the stray netting. It was enough to convince her not to fall asleep. Fighting to keep her eyes open, she stared at the doorway and waited for it to open. Her eyes felt raw, as if she had not slept in days or had been crying for hours. She knew it was the lack of sleep that she'd had to endure. With some passing thought she wondered how Michael had managed to do it for forty days on his own.

The door slid open and a man walked in, two scaly looking demons at his heels. Bianca sat up straighter, craning her neck to watch them. A fourth shimmered into the centre of the room and Bianca glanced next to her. Michael still wasn't back. What was she going to do on her own?

Looking back to the group she could see they were now speaking in hushed tones. She strained to hear what was going on but she wasn't close enough for any sentences to be audible. The odd word here and there wasn't enough to help her piece together what was going on. Michael knew more. Michael should be here. He was the one who had memorised the file. He was the one who knew what to do.

"Thanks for that, but we won't be needing you anymore," her target said. Powering up a flame ball he threw it at the man who had shimmered in. Bianca watched open-mouthed as he disintegrated. He turned back to the two scaly demons. "Time to leave, boys."

Bianca moved, undecided whether to stop them or sit by and get herself into trouble with Michael for letting them go. The movement made enough noise to catch their attention and they looked over in her direction.

"Guess that got decided for me," she said quietly to herself.

"What was that?" her target asked.

The two scaly demons began moving in her direction. Shimmering out she reappeared in the centre of the room behind her target, kicking him to the floor. Somewhat pleased that all those martial art training sessions Michael had given her now paid off, she almost missed the two scaly demons retracing their steps back to her, spewing forth vile yellow venom from their mouths. Bianca dropped to her knees, watching as the sickening coloured strings flew over her head, seeing the metal where it finally hit bubble and froth. Grimacing, Bianca turned her attention back to her target, trying to pull the suitcase from his hands. What she hadn't expected was for him to swing his foot around and sweep her back onto the ground. Fighting to regain her footing, she saw that he had gotten there first, summoning his two lackeys to grab her. As she finally stood, one grabbed hold of her arm. She tried to shake him off, to no avail, and instead brought her hand around, the fist connecting with his shoulder to throw him off-balance. His grip loosening on her arm, she turned her hand in kind to grab his, twisting it as much as she could, trying to put some distance between them at the same time. She felt something drop down around her neck, yanking her back and pressing on her trachea. Coughing, she realised it must have been the other scaly demon. Lifting her foot she tried to kick the first one away, her hands travelling to the object that was cutting off her air. Throwing her elbow back, she hit him in the stomach. Winded, his grip slackened, dropping the rope to the base of her neck before it was pulled tight again as his arms instinctively pulled back. Bianca instantly choked, realising that was not the best idea. She felt her foot slip as she tried to gasp in the single breath that would not come, collapsing to the ground as the scaly demon fell away behind her. Michael stood in his place, a cup of coffee in hand. As the target moved towards him, Michael tossed the cup his way, the burning liquid splashing across his face and instantly blinding him.

"Sorry I was late," Michael apologised quickly.

The first scaly demon charging him, he stepped out of the way, shimmering further from Bianca towards where the rigs of scaffolding stood. The two scaly demons gave chase, one of them quicker than the other as he closed in on Michael. Michael ran up one of the planks of wood, leaping for the end as the demon sprayed its venom towards him. The plank lowering under his weight and lifting on the other side, it smacked the demon under the chin, his spray ending up on the scaffolding somewhere overhead. Slipping his way through the bars, Michael swung himself further and further up the levels. Bianca watched in awe, astounded with his skill, amazed to see that the ripple in the muscles of his arms as he transferred from one bar to another made it look as if he was a professional gymnast that did this everyday.

Placing his feet on the edge of one of the bars, Michael gripped the steel tightly as he swung himself around, trying to gather a fair amount of height, before pivoting towards the two scaly demons feet first, knocking them both flat onto the ground. Leaning over them, he conjured himself an athame, whipping it from the side as if he had pulled it from his boot, keeping it low towards the two bodies on the floor underneath him. Glancing up he saw Bianca was still seated on the floor, the target hurrying to make a quick exit through the warehouse entry.

"Bianca!" he shouted. She glanced up at him. He nodded towards the door. Turning her head quickly, she pushed herself up a little, throwing her hand forward, the energy ball slowly rolling into a larger form before shooting off her palm towards him. Hitting him squarely in the back, she watched as he burned up, turning her head back to look at Michael and seeing that he had dealt with the other two demons.

"Good. I'm pleased. You've learnt something," Michael said, straightening.

Bianca balled up the rope that lay across her lap, throwing it viciously to the side. She had tried her best, and still needed him to help her. She wasn't sure if she was ever going to live up to the height of potential he had crafted out for her. Pushing herself to her feet she shimmered out after him.

* * *

"We're going to try something different today," Michael said.

"We are?" Bianca asked, watching as he walked across the room.

"I think you've proven yourself. We can take you up another level."

Bianca smirked, satisfied she had accomplished something, pleased that Michael was happy with her and thought highly enough of what she'd done to give her the opportunity to do more.

"What I want to do is fine tune your skills. You've kept up your studies, I presume?" He expected her to say she had. Bianca nodded. It was just about the only thing she could do outside of this room. "Excellent. So before we get more involved in different aspects of your powers, I'm going to work on your senses. The most reliant sense is, of course, sight. Your hand-eye coordination has improved remarkably, but now you need to start picking up on the little things that people don't notice. Detail your surroundings in your mind. Be aware of what's around you that you can use or can be used against you. Keep a close eye on your target. Use me for an example. Can you see me?"

"Yes," Bianca answered bemused, as if he'd just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. He shimmered out. "Not if you do that I can't."

When he reappeared he was directly in front of her. She jumped a little, startled that he'd come so close.

"Be aware," he said quietly, his eyes studying hers. "Transportation abilities enable more efficient surprise attacks. You or anyone else with the power will use it to their advantage. This is why you can't rely on sight alone. Don't neglect your other senses. Touch."

He took her hand, lifting it into the air. She barely noticed the motion except for the feel of his hand against hers, the efferent warmth of his palm as it wrapped around her fingers. Her gaze lowered to their hands for only a brief moment, as if to convince herself what she felt was actually happening, before rising again to meet his eyes.

"Taste. Smell. Sound," he continued, leaning in close to her ear as he whispered the last word.

She was captivated by everything about him. Feeling his breath on her skin, she drew in a deep one herself, slowly letting it out as she realised how close his face was to hers. Just the slightest turn of her head and their lips would be touching. Instinct taking over, she began to turn her head to do so, but it was at this instant he decided to pull back, her hand falling as he let it go. She watched somewhat disappointed as he walked away.

"So if you are blinded or caught in darkness – and don't think you won't be, luminakinesis isn't part of your anatomy…"

Bianca found her attention drifting, barely listening to what he was saying. She folded her arms, pulling them tight, her gaze falling to the floor as Michael reverted to teacher mode, both belittling and instructive in his approach.

"I'm boring you, aren't I?" he questioned.

Bianca's attention snapped back to him. She swallowed hard, wondering if she'd been caught out. She hadn't been focusing on anything of a work-related nature. She had been thinking about Michael, caring more about the person inside, behind the entire analytical stone-cold persona. She had been getting closer to him over the past eighteen months, and during that time she'd seen glimpses of the real him, not this charade he was trying to put up for the Phoenix coven. It seemed like he would only ever let her see the hidden side of him, just like that first time she had walked into the training room and saw his amusement in the way they had been keeping a secret from the others. It made her feel special; made her feel as if someone else cared about what she thought and felt.

"Should I make this more entertaining, then?" He pulled a long piece of dark cloth from his pocket as he slowly walked back to her. "Well, I can't lie, I had this planned anyway - just speeding it up a bit so I don't lose you completely."

Bianca watched as he unrolled the dark length of cloth in his hands, pulling it apart so that it stretched from one hand to another. She unfolded her arms, dropping her hands to her sides as she watched him get closer, smiling as her gaze travelled from the object in his hands up to the lightened expression on his face.

"Michael, what are you doing?" she said with a nervous laugh.

"Testing your senses," he explained. "But firstly we have to deprive you of your sight."

She lifted her hands as the blindfold came closer to her eyes. Taking it into her grasp, her hands brushed against his as her thumbs hit her cheekbones, smoothing the dark material across her eyes as she closed them. Her hands followed his back, stopping at the sides of her head as he reached behind her to fasten it with a knot. Again she could feel how close he was to her. Again she thought about brushing her lips against his, the only thing holding her back was not knowing exactly where his face was. And again he pulled away, backing up a few paces.

"Follow the sound of my voice," he said. She turned her head towards where she thought it was coming from. "Good. Now I'm going to quit speaking in a minute, and I want you to point out where I am. Use everything that's available to you, master your senses."

He stopped speaking and the room fell silent. Bianca strained to hear something, wondering if in some way she should be developing a sixth sense at this point so she could find him. Then she heard the first footstep. She waited for another just to be sure before pointing out a direction. She heard them coming closer, heard them travelling further away. Heard them to the left, heard them to the right. She heard him making it a little harder, mixing it up a bit by shimmering into different spots so that she couldn't keep track of the direction he was going. As he shimmered closer to her she could feel the ripple in the air as he appeared. It was something she had never really noticed before. She went to grab behind her and heard him step back, just out of reach. She heard him take a step to the right and pause. She heard more steps somewhere in front of her now, still off to the right. She smiled, he'd shimmered again; she was learning his game now. Just as she was about to confidently point out where he was she heard him behind her again, where he had been before, taking another step.

"Michael?" she called uneasily. More footsteps, in front and behind, but no-one answered. "Michael, where are you? There're two sets of footsteps in here. There's more than just you. Who else is here?"

There was still no answer. Soft whispers, but nothing directed at her. She could feel panic start to slowly rise in her. What if something had happened to him? Unless he really was just playing a game. Feeling anxious and annoyed she called out to him again. She began to reach up to the blindfold.

"Go."

She lifted her head in an instant towards the voice. It was Michael's voice. What was he doing? He was in front of her now, joining the other footsteps. They weren't close enough for her to reach out and touch, but they weren't so far away that she couldn't hear them.

"Who's there?"

She barely got the words out when she felt a warm sensation inside her spreading outwards, everything feeling like it was disintegrating. Frightened, she reached up for the blindfold, picturing the room in her mind, knowing it would be there when she pulled the dark cloth down. But the further she stretched her hand, the more she felt like she couldn't reach it. She felt herself scattering, floating, completely disembodied. When she felt stable enough she grabbed hold of the blindfold and yanked it down, letting it hang around her neck. The room still looked the same, only there were two people in it now apart from her - Michael and another tall, slender man with light brown hair who looked to be in his twenties. The stranger gave her a warm smile as if she knew him. Her attention fully focused on Michael, she glared at him.

"What the hell was that? What are you playing at?"

There was no reaction from Michael which annoyed her even more. He seemed to be studying her like some science project, waiting to see what the effect would be. Trying to work out what the weird sensation she had felt was she glanced down and saw her other hand reforming from ash into long, slender fingers. It looked vaguely familiar, like she had seen it before, but it was a very long time ago, and not her but someone else. Quickly she looked back to them.

"What did you do to me?" she asked.

This time Michael decided he would speak, taking a step forward as he nodded back towards the other young man.

"This is Greg. He's a witch too. He just blew you up," Michael said matter-of-factly.

"What?" she shrieked. Michael walked closer to her.

"What you just did, that's called reconstitution. Just like the legend of the Phoenix that's our mark, you have the ability to rise from the ashes and reform. Typically you'll be able to do this against someone with the power of molecular combustion. With any other being they would be able to completely destroy the body and that's it, but the Phoenix has been blessed with the power to reform on such an event. I needed to show you this," he said stopping in front of her and lowering his voice, "because this is a power you can use to fool your enemies. This is something that is extremely rare to have. Value it. Use it."

"Why did you do it that way?" she asked quietly, upset that he had played her and tricked her into it. What if she hadn't had that power, what if she couldn't do it? She'd never done it before. Could he rely solely on instinct for her to make such a thing occur?

"Because if I told you I was going to try to kill you, you wouldn't trust me," he answered softly.

"Are we done here?" Greg called out. "Cause I've kind of got a lunch thing to get to."

"Sure," Michael said, waving him off without looking at him, his eyes on Bianca as she searched his face for answers. Realising that he was being ignorant, he turned to watch the young witch leave. "Thanks Greg."

"No problem," Greg called, waving back. He pushed the door open and Michael turned his attention back to Bianca.

"You understand?" he asked. She nodded quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Keeping an eye on him as she backed up, she gathered her things and raced from the room. She needed to work out what had just happened. She needed to get her head together. She couldn't focus otherwise, and without focus Michael would think her hopeless. Slowing her pace down, she took in a reassuring breath as she pushed the door open and walked out into the open air.


	11. Chapter 11

**2017**

"I would think someone as pretty as you would have trouble getting a boyfriend. Most guys would be too afraid to approach you."

Kate stared at the man behind the counter, again thrusting forward the bills in her hand urging him to take them.

"Do you hit on all your customers like this?" she questioned. "Because, not that it's any of your business, but you wouldn't fit into my lifestyle."

"I'd love you to tell me about it," he probed as he leant closer, trying to keep her a little longer.

Frustrated, she slammed the notes onto the counter and walked back to the first aisle, grabbing Bianca and hauling her away from the rows of saws.

"C'mon Bianca," she said. "I swear that's the worst thing about living on your own, you only need to fix one broken lightbulb to have someone think you're the next piece of fresh meat."

"What happened?" Bianca asked.

She certainly hadn't been paying any attention to what was going on with her aunt and the hardware store employee. She'd been focused on the saws, on the sharpness of the blades, thinking constructively about how useful they would be. Michael had trained her that way. Now wherever she was she was consistently analysing her surroundings and what could be useful to her.

"He's a jerk. A good-for-nothing sleaze who has nothing better to do with his time than try to pick up anything that looks remotely female who's walked into his store." Sighing, she looked over to Bianca. "Do you want to do something more enjoyable? We can go check out The Gap. I need some new clothes after the last assignment." She smiled. "And it's always a good excuse to fill up the wardrobe."

"Do things always get that messy?" Bianca asked inquisitively as they walked further.

"Generally," Kate answered. "But there will be the odd occasion that it'll be simple. I guess they tend to be better – you can get in and get out and then go about your daily routine. No mess, no fuss. But there's no real fun to be had in those, I like to play a bit. Bigger jobs you get paid more for, then you can buy whatever you want. Get as many clothes as you want," she said teasingly, trying to make it sound more appealing to Bianca. She could see her niece was still unsure, even though she had committed herself to doing it now. "Everyone has their price, Bianca. It's just a job, a way of life. Only thing is you get more power this way, and that can be addictive. It's not so hard. It really isn't as bad as you're making it out to be. Your entire family went through this. It's a right, a heritage. You can do this."

"She's right," a male voice piped up from in front of them. They stopped walking. "I have faith in you."

"I see you haven't lost that habit of just showing up somewhere," Kate said, chuckling a little. Michael's gaze crossed over to her, a faint smile on his lips.

"Are you becoming the expert on me now?" he questioned.

Kate raised her hand to her ear, fiddling with her earlobe. "What if I was?"

"Wrong assumption for someone who's hardly ever in town."

"I'll try harder next time."

"Did you feel like taking some time out?" Bianca asked, smirking, as Michael took a step towards them. "Didn't think shopping with the girls was your idea of fun."

"No, actually, we've got somewhere else to be," Michael said cryptically. Bianca's smile faded.

"No time off?"

"No," Michael answered shortly. "You'll have to get used to this, Bianca. Things don't get catered towards you; you have to time yourself around them."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. All part of the learning process."

"You'll have to excuse us, Kate," Michael said, taking Bianca's hand in his and pulling her towards him. "You weren't factored into this mission."

"No, of course not. I shouldn't be in town, right?" she jibed. "No matter, I'll shop and repair on my own."

Bianca followed Michael as he yanked her around the corner of the store to a small, secluded place where they couldn't be seen, smiling up at him as he shimmered them both over to a suburban part of town.

"Here?" Bianca asked, a little stunned as she looked around. "Isn't this too… peachy for bad guys?"

"Not for a bijouterie thief," Michael said. She looked at him confused, needing more explanation, telling herself she really had to start insisting he give her the complete background on all the targets before he just showed up and made her do something. "He's pretty small, shouldn't be too hard for you to take him."

"What, like a dwarf? Sneezy, Dopey, Happy or Sleepy?"

"Logan. Logan Cotter," he responded. Bianca could see he was starting to get annoyed with her for not taking this seriously. "He's dangerous, Bianca. Don't be fooled by him. Now get in there and do your job before the other neighbours start noticing us. We don't want any witnesses."

Bianca nodded deferentially, making her way up the pathway towards the house. Turning she looked back towards Michael who remained where he was, staring at her but doing little else.

"You coming?" she asked.

"No. As I said, you can handle him. You don't need me for that."

"But what if—"

"No what ifs. Don't question your abilities. You know how to do this, now do it. No second guessing."

He shimmered out as if to prove the point that he was leaving her on her own to do this. She looked back to the door, straightening her shoulders and lifting her head. She could do this. She was seventeen now. She'd done this countless times over the past two years. Michael had trained her well enough; she at least had the basic powers down pat. Her aunt had told her it wasn't hard, that she was making a big deal out of it. She had to be confidant to be believable.

Reaching the doorway she lifted her hand and gently rapped on the door. Glancing to her left she saw there was a doorbell there. After waiting a moment and having no-one answer the knock, she pressed the little button and listened to the chimes ring out throughout the house. She only had to wait a short while before a twelve-year-old boy pulled the door back, looking up at her cautiously. She smiled down at him, tempted to do all the cheesy things like bending towards him, speaking baby-talk, pinching his cheeks and ruffling his hair, but she restrained herself, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

"Hi there," she said. "I'm from the babysitting service. Are your parents home?"

"I don't need no babysitter," the boy replied roughly.

"Even so, I have to talk it over with them. Can I come in?"

Looking her over, the boy finally shrugged and pulled the door back. Following him into the living room, she noticed the slight movement of his hands towards various objects in the room. She barely caught sight of what they were before they blinked out of view. The boy had power.

"So you ever see your dad do something weird?" she asked. "Or your mum wear some nice jewellery?"

Looking around the room she saw that it was nice and cosy, little armchairs sat about a small long table, woven blankets thrown over the back as if they were made by grandma and had to be shown off. The coffee table was bare except for a pack of cards stacked neatly near the side, with 5 of the pile spread fan-like next to it. There were pictures on the mantel of the fireplace just ahead of her, but as Bianca stepped up to survey them she saw they were all of kids. Three kids in all, of which this boy appeared to be the eldest.

"Dad's dead. Mum's gone," the boy said quickly.

Bianca turned back to him quickly, bewildered, wondering how that could possibly be. Maybe she had the wrong house. Michael hadn't stopped her. But someone had to be looking after these kids – maybe an uncle, or some other guardian that lived with them.

"Who's looking after you?" she asked vigilantly as she began to walk towards him.

"Logan!" a smaller girl of about four shouted out as she came racing towards him from the kitchen. He wrapped an arm around her.

"We look after ourselves."

Bianca stared at the boy. This was him. This was Logan. This was her target. He was small, yes, but that was because he was a child. Only a child and he was supposed to be some kind of dangerous criminal. Her eyes falling on the young girl, Bianca felt a strong pang of guilt. She was roughly the same age she had been when she saw the Phoenix attack her father. And here she was, about to do the same to the girl's brother, to her only caregiver according to him. Was she really going to do this? Was she going to slaughter him in front of the young girl?

"Who's that?" the young girl asked, staring up at Bianca.

"Not the babysitter," Logan said cockily with a shake of his head. Bianca instantly knew he was onto her and backed up a step. She saw an energy ball begin to power up in his hand as he pushed his younger sister behind him. "Emile, get out of here."

Bianca watched as the young girl turned and fled back towards the kitchen, moving through the wall this time and not the open archway. Logan threw the energy ball forwards, Bianca instantly leaping on top of the coffee table as soon as she felt the solid wood rest against her leg. The ball was low enough and short enough to make its collision point against the leg, blasting it out from under her as the table rocked and then tilted, making her slide down onto the floor again. Scampering back, she reached around and upturned it towards him as he moved forward.

'This isn't right,' she thought. 'I'm fighting a child. Why is this happening?'

Again she heard her aunt's words echo in her head, that everyone had a price. She had originally thought she was generalizing. In truth she was being thorough, it was an apt representation. There was no discrimination in it. Man, woman, black, white, child, adult, bad, good, witches, demons, warlocks, humans, they were all targets. And she would have to kill them. Every last one she was paid for, she had to do it.

She saw him vanish, just as he had made various objects in the room vanish when they had walked in. Now she understood, he had the power of invisibility. More than likely he had been concealing the evidence of his thievery as she walked in. Closing her eyes, she listened for him. She heard him move. Reaching to her right she grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, throwing it forward, seeing that there was a writhing figure captured underneath. Racing forward, she tackled him to the ground, reaching to her left this time and whipping the poker from the storage rack. It was extremely long, bronzed, made of brass, a rounded knob at one end and a spear like edge at the other with a little hook for latching. With vicious intent she drove the end of the fire poker through the holes in the knitted blanket, watching the pale coloured wool begin to darken to a deeper red as an unseen figure bled out. She tilted the poker, driving it deeper, catching the hook into the edge of the skin and pulling it back. The invisibility dropped away, and now she could see the carnage beneath her that had once been Logan Cotter. The blood ran out and over her hands as she took some kind of perverse glee in twisting the poker inside of him, tearing the muscles, rupturing the organs, driving it deeper until it popped out the other side, bouncing against the soft edging of the carpet, pools of blood splaying around his body until it began to soak into the knees of her jeans. Savagely she ripped the poker back out, lifting her head, the contents caught up in the reversal splattering across his body, the floor, the broken table, and even part of her clothing. Remembering to keep her presence unknown, she picked up the edge of the blanket and scrubbed away the fingerprints on the handle, reaching over to dust the top of the broken table, glancing around quickly to check nothing else had been left. Shimmering out, she reappeared back at the main headquarters, Michael awaiting her arrival as she knew he would be.

"So?" he pressed.

"It's done," she said dismally.

"I see," he said, looking her over, noting the blood on her clothes and hands.

"He was only a kid, Michael."

"I know."

"His little sister was the same age as me. When they killed my dad."

"That's a shame, but what's done is done," he said coldly. She bit her lip, looking down to the floor. "Go home. Get yourself cleaned up. We'll clear this up tomorrow. You won't be needed tonight."

"Go home," she repeated. He nodded.

Thinking of home she shimmered there. Not to their apartment, but to their house - the old one that held so many memories for her, both good and evil. The sky was beginning to darken now. It was a good cover for the state she was in, making it less noticeable for people to see her in her bloody attire. But she wasn't thinking of any of this, she was just standing, staring at the two storey house, her eyes locked on the front door, on the window to the front room. The living room was dark. Her gaze drifting upstairs she could see a light shining from the side, from her old room. There was someone else living there now – someone else sleeping in her bed that didn't know anything about the horrors from that night fourteen years ago.

She didn't know how long she had been standing there for, maybe until the lights turned out upstairs, and one began to shine downstairs again. Breaking her stare and bowing her head she shimmered back to the small apartment, just inside the doorway. She could hear the television on in her mother's room. Passing by the doorway she saw its bright reflection as the daily news flickered across the screen. The swirling lights of police vehicles crossed the camera, the blood-stained sheeted body being wheeled out through the front door as a hyperactive reporter tried to propel the story into something more than it was. Describing the event as a 'heinous act of cruelty against an innocent child', trying to enforce the desperate situation of the children left behind, the trauma of the youngest bearing witness to the brutal attack. They stated only a monster could do this, propositioning that it may be just the start of the work of some insane serial killer.

"Did you do this?" Lyn asked, seeing Bianca shadowing the doorway. She smiled. "You did good, baby. It's all over the news. You'll get paid ten-fold, and then we might be able to go out and celebrate."

Bianca turned away, not saying a word, making her way to the bathroom. She closed the door solidly behind her, grateful for the quiet. Turning on the faucet at the sink she splashed water onto her hands, picking up the rounded piece of white soap that lay on the side of the basin and scrubbing her hands furiously with it, trying to get every last remnant of the blood off. She watched as the light reddish colour swirled around the porcelain, diluting into the water as it emptied down into the drain. Her hands and forearms finally clean she pushed her hands together under the faucet, scooping up the stream that fell. Drawing back, she splashed the water against her face, reaching out and grabbing a hand towel to dry the residual drops. Pulling her hair free she let it fall into her face as she stared down at the sink, the water still circling in its rush to escape. Turning the faucet off she continued to stare into the porcelain until the last of the water disappeared, her hands gripping the edge of the basin. She felt numb, the quiet only enhancing the thoughts of what everyone had been saying today, about her, about what she'd done. Her eyes travelling up to the small mirror that stood above the sink, she stared at her reflection through the limp strands of hair that hung over her face. This was more than the face of a girl, more than a Phoenix witch. It was the face of an assassin, the face of a cold-blooded killer who had no discretion. It was the face of someone who could destroy someone else's world. It was the face of someone just as guilty as those men that had killed her father. Unable to bear the sight any longer, she balled her fists at the edge of the basin, raising her right and smashing it into the glass. The mirror cracked, shattering into a disturbed version of herself. This was right. This was how she felt inside - broken, fractured, beyond repair. She paid no attention to the pain in the knife edge of her hand, watching the fragmented pieces tumble down into the basin. Not all went down the drain, not like the water. It wasn't enough, it still wasn't enough. Her eyes caught sight of the birthmark on her left wrist. That was the reason she was like this. That was the reason she had to live this way. She couldn't do this anymore, couldn't keep killing people so mercilessly. It had to go away; then she'd be free. Finally free. Her hand dipping into the basin she picked up one of the broken shards, adjusting her grip as it slipped in the blood that trailed across her palm and down her fingers. Placing it against her skin she pressed down, letting it bite in, drawing the glass back as she tried to slice the birthmark free. The pain was justified; she had caused countless others this kind of suffering and worse.

"Bianca!" Lyn shrieked from the doorway.

Bianca lifted her head, as if she'd awoken from some kind of daze. She could see she had barely gone a quarter of the way through, her mother standing at the door both shocked and terrified.

"What?" Bianca grunted, as if she was doing nothing more than brushing her teeth.

"What are you doing?" Lyn questioned. "Put it down, Bianca."

"Why?"

This seemed to anger Lyn. Quickly she lost her cool. "I don't know what you think you're doing…"

"You don't know what I'm doing?" Bianca shot back. "What does it look like, mother? I don't want to be a part of this anymore. I'm trying to escape it. This is the reason I'm doing this. If I get rid of it—"

"It won't solve anything, and you know it."

"Then I'll have to find some other way to do it."

Bianca threw the glass back down into the basin, pushing back past her mother. Lyn spun after her, furious.

"Don't you walk away from me, Bianca. You stay here and fix this!" she shouted after her.

"Go to hell," Bianca said vehemently, reaching the front door and yanking it open.

"Bianca! I'm warning you! Don't you walk out on me!"

"What, like you walked out on me and dad?" Bianca cried, spinning to face her mother. "You left us there to die! You didn't care. He's dead because of you, because you didn't stay there to protect us. Because you were so wrapped up in this odious lifestyle that you would do anything for them and nothing for us. God, you were the one who put me here in the first place!"

Again she turned back towards the doorway, not waiting for a response from her mother, wanting only to escape, to leave, to never have to face her again. Lyn's expression softened as she realised the pain her daughter was going through.

"Bianca, you're hurt," she said softly. "Bianca. Can't we just talk about this? Stay."

Tears burning behind her eyes, Bianca walked into the hallway, traipsing up the corridor, paying no attention to the people in the other rooms, not caring if anyone saw her, ignoring the physical pain as the blood streamed down her hands and trailed behind her on the floor. She knew of only one place to go. Only one place where she would find someone who could understand, who cared, who knew. She shimmered out from the hallway and into the training room where she found the very person she was looking for, in 'his second home if not his first'.

"Bianca?" Michael questioned. "I thought I told you to go home."

"I did," she said softly. Her head swimming, she sank to the floor.

Michael walked towards her, noting as he got closer that the blood that covered her now was not the blood that had covered her before. Wounds covered her hands and arms, freshly opened. Tears began to stream down her face as she looked up to him. He quickened his pace.

"What the hell did you do, Bianca?" he yelled.

He dropped down in front of her, and now Bianca felt the tears flow from her eyes, just as the blood flowed from her hands laying helplessly on her lap. Feelings of guilt and shame began to override the numbness. She was embarrassed now that she had come to him, made him see her like this.

Conjuring what appeared to be a medical kit, Michael began rapidly pulling things from the small box, first grabbing her wrist and brushing a cloth over it, seeing now exactly where she had cut herself. Frowning, he poured some iodine onto a cloth, pressing it down over the exposed wound.

"Ow!" she screamed, feeling the liquid burn into the already stinging pain, her body shuddering as the tears fell harder.

Michael picked up a bandage with the other hand as he held the cloth in place, winding it around her arm and pulling it tight. She whimpered with each jerk of his hand as he pulled the loop tight then wound around another.

"Why? Why did you do this, Bianca?" he asked, pulling again. He pulled so fiercely it hurt, and she wondered if he'd completely cut off her circulation. She cried out again. He paused briefly, looking up at her, staring at her in dead seriousness. "Get used to the pain, and learn to be silent about it. It'll be like this and much worse."

He fastened it off and she felt the bandage was tight and secure, but despite the many layers soaking and suppressing the flow of blood, the never-ending stinging sensation remained underneath. She lifted her bandaged wrist to her chest, moving to hold it with her other hand.

"I wanted it to go away. I want to stop feeling like this, acting like this, being like this." Sniffling back the tears that still continued to come; she lifted her eyes towards him. "I can't fight it all away. I want to escape."

He grabbed her chin between his fingers, squeezing tightly. "You can't escape. I told you that. Did you not listen to a word I said to you?"

Bianca choked again as the tears she had been fighting made a quick return. She had listened to him. She had remembered what he said. She had done what he instructed her. But none of it would fight off the darkness; none of it was going to stop it.

"Obviously not," he said, throwing her face to the side when she didn't answer, grabbing her right hand which was still bleeding and lifting it to his eye level. There were small slivers of the mirror caught inside. Grabbing a pair of tweezers he pushed the metal into the side of her hand, grabbing what he could and pulling it out. She winced. "I told you to look after your hands, and look what you did. This isn't taking care of it."

"Since when was I off-limits to affliction?" she queried. "I deserve to be punished for what I do."

"You do what some rich bastard pays you to do. None of this is your choice," he said, finally fastening the second bandage around her hand. "And you think you should be condemned to eternal suffering? Because I can tell you right now you don't need the self-mutilation kind. Every time you step out that door you're risking it all." Sitting back he watched her; seeing the tears had dried now, that she was beginning to drown once more in the anger that spurred her on to do this. "Should I call your mother?"

"No! I'm not going back there. She started this."

Tilting his head to the side, he studied her face, reaching out to brush her hair aside, his hand resting against the top of her head.

"Do you want to come with me? I'm heading off home now. I'm sure I can fit you in somewhere."

Meekly she nodded, not knowing what else to do. She didn't want to go home. She could have just stayed here but she didn't want to be alone. She didn't want the thoughts of darkness to start torturing her again. She needed a distraction, and Michael seemed the only one who would be able to supply that at this moment. She felt safer around him; he was always there to back her up.

He stood; collecting his belongs before returning to her and helping her up. He shimmered them both back to his apartment. She stood by the front door, his hand still on her arm, looking around the clean and crisp apartment. The living room was larger than the one at her place, adorned with comfy red couches, a rug on the floor, a crafted wooden coffee table that looked as if it had been imported from Europe. There were paintings by Matisse and Derain adorning the walls.

"So what do you think?" he asked.

"It's so… big," Bianca said a little awestruck that one man could live by himself in such a large apartment.

She followed him through another doorway, finding herself in his bedroom as he dropped his bag down by the chest of drawers. It was basically the only thing in here apart from the closet and a large bed that sat in the centre of the room.

"You can sleep here," he said. She turned her head from the bed towards him. He walked towards the closet, pulling some blankets out. "Until we work something out, I'll crash on the couch if I need to." Placing the blankets on top of the chest of drawers as he returned to them, he pulled open a drawer and tossed her a long sleeve shirt from it. "Get changed. You don't want to be sleeping like that."

Looking down at the shirt in her hands, Bianca lifted it and opened it out as he disappeared with the blankets back into the living room. Undoing her jeans she pushed them to the floor, hastily kicking them away when she saw the dark stains around the knees. Pulling her shirt over her head, being extra careful of her sensitive arm and hand, she replaced it with the shirt he had given her, grateful for the length and size. Hugging herself tightly she walked back into the living room, curling up in one of the armchairs and pulling the sleeves over her hands so that only the ends of her fingers were showing. She watched Michael construct a makeshift bed on the sofa, lifting his head as someone rapped on the door.

"Lyn, hi," he said, pulling it open and seeing Bianca's mother standing outside.

"Have you seen Bianca?" she enquired.

Bianca climbed out of the armchair, slowly walking towards the front door until she stood behind Michael. He glanced back at her, his hand still on the door.

"What do you want?" Bianca asked quietly, stuffing her hands under her arms as she gripped the edges of the shirt. For some reason she feared her mother seeing the bandages, hearing the disapproval in her tone, and it was as if her mother had never seen her do it in the first place.

"Sweetie, I want you to come home," Lyn answered.

"Why? You don't care about me. You never have! Don't pretend to start now."

"Sweetie, I do care," Lyn said, quickly changing her tone as she realised Bianca was not going to fall for the fake pleasantries she used to fool many other people. "Well, where are you going to go? There's nowhere you can run to. You'd be better off in your own room, with your own things."

"Michael's letting me stay here," Bianca said, indignant.

Lyn's mouth fell open, her gaze shifting to Michael and her eyes darkening as she closed her mouth again. Michael, who at first seemed to have been caught a little off-guard by the outburst, quickly resumed his usual expressionless demeanour, looking to Lyn as she glared at him; taking a step forward and pushing Lyn back lightly with his hand, half-closing the door behind him as he lowered his body slightly so he could keep his voice low.

"Don't worry, Lyn. I'll look after her," he said reassuringly. "It's better than having her run around on the streets. I'll send her to pick up her things tomorrow, if she hasn't already changed her mind about leaving."

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Lyn said, her voice wavering slightly.

"Perhaps it wasn't, but it will work out for the better. You'll see."

Leaving her outside, he slipped back into his apartment and closed the door, watching Bianca disappear into the bedroom, her hands raised to her mouth as she lightly chewed on the edge of her thumb.

"Goodnight, Bianca," he called, lifting the blanket on the couch, pausing for a response before slipping underneath it. All he received was the closing of the door in answer.


	12. Chapter 12

**2017** _cont._

As the months passed the scars faded, and the memories with them. Things were better at Michael's; although he was only ever home half the time. She went back out into the field without a concern because Michael was always by her side. So long as he was there she felt safe from everything, including herself. She turned her anger out rather than in and began to be more successful, faster, and more efficient.

"Bianca, run!" Michael shouted.

Bianca kicked up her heels and raced down the tunnel, Michael close behind skittering every now and then as he looked back. The mass of bugs following them were squashed or blocked by the imploding walls.

"There's going to be more up ahead!" Bianca called back to him.

"I know. I expected that," he said, catching up and overtaking her. "Faster, Bianca!"

Dirt spraying under her feet, she pushed herself to run faster, Michael not far in front of her. Emerging into the light of a fading sunset they were greeted by a group of Kluzjig demons – their hair wild and noses pushed back flat against their faces. Michael punched one on his way through, spinning into a roundhouse kick as it keeled over and knocking a second to the floor. Bianca used them as launching pads as she ran, leaping onto the one on the ground then up to the back of the one keeled over, using her momentum to catapult into a forward somersault and knock down the two left standing. Bringing down her athame, she watched as they flamed beneath her, Michael finishing what he started on the two behind.

"That's all?" she called up to him.

"I believe six was the total," he replied. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to her feet. "So including the two we finished off inside, I'm sure we've met the bounty criteria."

"I would have thought there would be more."

"It's not a large group of demons. Numbers vary here and there. We got what we came for, I think we should go."

Rubbing the aching muscles in her shoulder, she shimmered out after him, reappearing back at his apartment. He strode towards the kitchen as she stretched.

"Hungry?" he asked. "I think we should order in, lay low for the moment." He picked up the phone, browsing the catalogues covering the fridge. "Pizza? Chinese? What's the order of the day?"

"Pizza, I guess," she said, shrugging.

He began dialling in numbers and lifted the receiver to his ear. "Any particular topping?"

"I'm not fussed."

She watched as he looked away from her, turning back towards the kitchen as he started to speak to whoever was on the other end. Glancing around, Bianca's eyes finally settled on the blood on her hands and shirt. And just as she had done every other time, she decided the sooner she got rid of it, the better. Moving towards the kitchen she peeked in through the doorway.

"I'm just going to have a shower," she said.

Michael glanced up momentarily, waving her off. She wasn't sure if he'd heard her, or was just being irritable now that he was on a call to someone else. There were no mentions of toppings, sizes or prices, and this was how she knew. Giving him a brief smile she left, walking into the bedroom and discarding her clothes as she traipsed into the bathroom. Closing the door, she rested her head against it for a moment before turning towards the shower, sliding the glass door open and spinning the handles. The water sprinkling down in a steady stream, she held her hand underneath then stepped inside.

Having scrubbed away the blood, the dirt and the grime from her body, she sank underneath the cascading water, drenching her hair and face, running her hands from front to back as she rubbed her eyes and then smoothed the long strands down. Grabbing the shampoo she lathered her hair, scrubbing it clean before falling back into the encompassing warmth. Turning off the shower she stepped out, noticing in-between the glistening drops that her skin had taken on a reddish hue and that the entire bathroom was filled with steam fogging up the glass and mirror. She'd run the water too hot.

Reaching for a towel, she wiped it across her face and down her arms before wrapping it around her. She picked up a hairbrush from the counter by the sink, running it through her wet hair, following with her other hand to smooth it and tugging at the ends to free the brush. Flicking her hair over her shoulder she started on the other side. When she was finished she put the brush down, holding onto the front of the towel as she walked back into the bedroom. Bending down to open the drawer, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and pulled out some fresh clothes. Placing them at the head of the bed, she combed her hair behind her ears before picking each item up and changing into it.

Adjusting the spaghetti straps on her top, she scooped her hair back with her hand and pulled the end free from where it was caught. Picking up the towels she tossed them back into the bathroom and walked back towards the bedroom doorway, catching a glimpse of Michael sitting on the balcony outside. She walked towards him, pausing just behind the sliding door as he looked up to her.

"Manage to wash your sins away?" he questioned. She shrugged.

"I could be forever if I tried," she said.

"Pizza?" he asked, holding up a slice, the end drooping back down towards the box.

Shaking her head she stepped out into the cool October night, taking a seat in the chair on the other side of the table out on the balcony. Leaning back in his chair, Michael lowered the pizza over his mouth, taking a sizeable bite from it, chewing and swallowing as he looked over to Bianca who was curling up in the chair, her feet pressed against the top edge of the low concrete barrier as her eyes moved across the city skyline.

"I specially order you in pizza, and you don't want it now?" he pressed. "Did you lose your appetite in the shower?"

"No," she said. "I prefer it cold anyway."

"So I have to save you some now?"

Eyeing him to see why that seemed like such a big problem, she saw him devour the last of his piece and then brush his hands.

"I've had enough anyway," he said, standing and scooping up the box.

He walked inside to clean himself up, leaving Bianca alone on the balcony. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she lowered her chin to rest on top, watching as the various apartments blinked lights on and off as people arrived home and subsequently went to bed, or went out again. Vague sounds of traffic passing by on the street downstairs drifted up, the occasional car horn blasting or siren ringing out.

"You still out here?" Michael asked as he returned, stopping in the doorway. She tilted her head and smiled at him as he pulled over the chair and sat next to her. "You should put a jacket on if you're going to stay here otherwise you'll freeze."

"I'm not cold," she said.

Michael raised his eyebrows. "I don't want you getting sick. Why don't you come back inside?"

Shaking her head, she looked back out into the night; the stars twinkling in the sky sporting the last few remnants of light as yet more people turned their apartment lights off, dulling their buildings into darkness. The cool breeze blew back against her face, lifting her hair slightly behind her before dropping it back into her face. It felt refreshing against her skin. Michael's gaze shifted from her out to where she was staring.

"What are you looking at?" he asked with keen interest.

"Nothing really. Just thinking," she answered.

"Okay, what are you thinking about then?"

"What happens when all the lights go out."

"Reach a conclusion?"

"No."

"Are you asking me then?"

Lowering her face to her hands she shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she thought about it, finally shrugging and mumbling: "I don't know. Do you have all the answers?"

Reaching out, he brushed her hair behind her ear, Bianca leaning into the touch as his fingers trailed under her chin, his thumb brushing against her jaw line.

"You're feeling it, aren't you?" he questioned.

The only thing she was feeling was the warmth of his hand against her face, the appreciation of the affection he was showing for her, and the burdening sensation that she was missing something. Lifting her face towards him he leaned in and kissed her. His lips soft against hers, she closed her eyes as she absorbed the feeling. Something she had wanted for so long and it was only coming now. It was only seconds, and felt like the barest fleeting of moments as he pulled away. Somehow she felt deprived, knowing she had waited so long, knowing everything she had done for him, she felt she deserved more. He hadn't moved far away, and remained where he was as she moved her head forward and pressed her lips to his, seeking out the reconnection. The tips of his fingers making lazy circles across her neck, she stared at him with lust filled eyes, waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to tell her he cared for her like she cared for him.

"I know how to make it go away," he said softly.

His hand gliding down her neck and her arm, he fastened his hand around hers as he pulled her up from the chair. Her eyes travelling up and down his body she wondered where he was taking her, and what exactly he was talking about. Leading her back into the bedroom, he turned her around to face him as he closed the door. Lifting her hand, he threaded his fingers through hers. She could feel the warmth of his palm ever closer to hers now. Gazing up at him, she lifted her head as he lowered his own to kiss her again. She fell back against his other hand, now snaking its way around her waist and sweeping across the bare skin of her back as he lifted the hem of her top a little higher. He was overbalancing towards her and she felt her feet falter as she stumbled backwards, not once but twice at his intensity. Her free hand grasping for the back of his head to gain herself some leverage, she found she could not overpower him.

As he pulled back she found she was able to steady herself, her hand falling to his shoulder then drifting down his arm as he lowered their joined hands, twisting on such an angle as he moved it slightly behind her that she felt a twinge of pain in her shoulder. The pain quickly faded as he moved his head down to the more exposed skin on her neck, kissing the now accessible crevice and making her heart jump. Tilting her head as he made his way up, she closed her eyes, giving into this new sensation whereby now even she could feel her own blood pumping in her veins.

Brushing his lips over hers, he again waited for her to make the move, to apply the pressure she was craving. As he pushed back against her she knew she wouldn't be able to keep her feet much longer, aimlessly feeling behind her for something solid, something to stop herself from falling. Her hand finally making contact as it slapped the mattress, she eased herself down onto it as he followed with short kisses.

Her eyes moved with his figure as he knelt down in front of her, pulling her closer, both hands now resting at the back of her hips working on her top as he lifted it up. Now she could feel the chill, the cold air caressing her skin as his hands did the same, creating the opposite effect. Her top now discarded on the floor, he placed a hand either side of her body, predatorily leaning forward, kissing her as she scampered her way back up the bed. Fastening his hands over her jeans, he stealthily popped the button and tugged down the zipper, leaving the pants in their wake as she distractedly shimmied her way out of them, consumed more with his lips than the hands that were pulling them from her body.

Her head hitting the pillows as he rose above her, lowering himself to her lips again, she had a fleeting moment of panic, working her hands in-between them and gently pushing against his chest. Looking down at her with partial offence, quickly disguised by his cool demeanour, he ran his hands down her hips and over her thighs as he sat back, stopping partway down as he watched her scoot back so that she was half-seated, her hands supporting her weight. This was too fast, too quick, and she wasn't even sure if she was doing the right thing.

"Bianca," Michael started, rubbing her leg. "Just relax."

The word had completely the opposite effect to what he was implying. Instead she tensed up more, and she knew that if he told her to relax one more time she would lose it completely and race from the room. But she didn't want to leave him. She loved him. She'd laid her life on the line for him time and time again. It had to be the same with him. Surely he cared for her – allowing her to use his home, his bathroom, his bed. He had to feel the same way or he wouldn't be so attentive.

"It's only a release," he explained softly, seeing she had frightened herself into stopping. "Just something to ease the tension."

Anxiously she watched him. He had to be right. He was always right. She had learned so much from him. He was her mentor, her teacher, why shouldn't she let him teach her this as well? Meekly she nodded.

He began making his way closer to her again and timidly she reached out to unbutton his shirt as he worked on his pants. Finally breaking free of his clothing, he lowered his head to her neck again, his hands stroking her hair and down to her back as he pulled her closer, unfastening the latch on her bra. His lips moving across her shoulder, he nudged the strap down one arm, returning to her lips as he pulled down the other. Gently pressing her abdomen, he pulled the bra off and cast it aside, his mouth working its way down her chest as she slowly fell back. Continuing down, she felt her whole body tingle, coming alive with each kiss and caress. His fingers latching onto her underwear, he smiled in appreciation as she lifted herself so he could remove them easily, discarding his own with the same kind of finesse. Moving back up to her she gently touched her fingers to his lips, slowly running them down his neck and chest, over the muscles she had seen before but never touched. It fascinated her.

His hand moving from her hip to her side, he brushed across her wrist with his fingers, taking her hand and lifting it towards her head, pushing his fingers between hers.

"Hold on," he whispered.

Compliantly she folded her fingers over, inhaling sharply as he entered her. His arm felt heavy over hers, as if he was trying to keep her there, but she wasn't about to move at all, not unless her body responded to something he did. His lips time and time again returned to smother hers, attempting to muffle her cries from the pain and the overwhelming pleasure that followed as he continued to thrust into her. Gripping his hand tightly, her entire being suspended into a state of rapture before crashing back to the here and now. Relief flooding her, she saw satisfaction cross his face as he backed away. Spent, she simply watched him crawl from the end of the bed, gathering his clothes as he walked over to a nearby chair, quickly dressing, flicking his shirt collar as he looked back at her. Turning on her side and propping her head up she saw him take a seat, slipping his feet back into a pair of shoes, leaning down as he tied up the laces.

"You're not staying?" she queried, disappointment evident in her voice. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to be able to curl up against him, feel his warm arms around her.

"No," Michael answered, lifting his body as he finished one shoe, lowering again to tie the other. "I've got some paperwork to do."

"Paperwork?"

"Yes, reports. Or did you forget what we did today?" he questioned, annoyance in his tone.

"No," she replied, rolling back onto her back, pulling the sheet up over her.

"Well it has to be done," he said. Straightening again, his hands slapped the arms of the chair as he lifted himself up. Her gaze shifted over to him. "I will be back," he said reassuringly.

Pulling the sheet up under her chin, she watched him leave, closing the door behind him. Her eyelids growing heavy she closed them, turning onto her side and snuggling into the pillow under her head as she drifted off to sleep.

Awakening the following morning, her eyes opened to find the spot on the bed next to her empty. Pushing her hand against the mattress, she lifted herself up and saw the sheets were in the exact same position as they were the previous night. There wasn't even a depression in the pillow. Biting her top lip, she turned and slid off the bed. Gathering her clothes as she headed to the bathroom, she had a quick shower, tying her hair back as she walked back into the bedroom. It was still empty. Moving into the living room she glanced at the couch and saw that it hadn't been made up.

There was a click at the door. Looking up Bianca saw it open, saw Michael stride through still in the same clothes he had been wearing when he left the previous night. He kicked it closed with the heel of his foot, his head down as he walked in a straight line, passing by on the other side of the couch from her. She followed him towards the kitchen, her arms folded; stopping as he stopped in the kitchen doorway, dropping the bag from his shoulder onto the floor.

"You didn't come home last night," she observed quietly.

"I was busy," Michael said, unzipping the bag and pulling something from it, tossing it somewhere behind him.

"Yes, you said that," Bianca stated, watching as he tossed a pile of rags over his shoulder. "But reports don't take all night."

Michael stopped what he was doing, looking up at her darkly as he rose back to his feet. Bianca dropped her arms to her sides as he took a step forward.

"You want to criticise me now? You know how important this is to me!" he shouted. "It's not enough that I have my own work to do, but now I have to carry double the workload because you're too insecure and inferior to go it alone? I have to do my own kills, my own paperwork, as well as yours. I do all your research. I have to teach half a dozen other Phoenix's, and in-between all that have to train myself! Why don't you stop thinking about yourself for a few seconds, Bianca, and have some empathy for other people? Give me some space! Please!"

Tears burning behind her eyes, she looked at the floor, swallowing, glancing back to him as she shook her head lightly, abruptly turning away and heading out to the balcony. Climbing into the same chair she was seated in last night, she curled herself up, resting her face against her hand, willing herself not to cry, closing her eyes as she tried to keep the tears contained. She could hear nothing but the soft sound of traffic below, feeling the warm glow of the sun. After a few minutes she heard movement by the door, opening her eyes but not moving as she heard Michael's voice.

"I don't mean to snap at you, Bianca. You just have to realise that you can't have my attention every minute of the day." He sighed at her lack of response. "If you're that bored, you could venture to the library and do some research yourself. It'd save me some work."

"Maybe I will," she said quietly, trying to sound threatening but her tone betrayed her.

Tossing his head to the side, he stepped out onto the balcony, his shoes scuffling across the concrete as he stepped in front of her, kneeling down to her height, resting his hands on her knees.

"You're not a child anymore. You're a grown woman. Now stop sulking and act like one. We'll talk tonight, after I finish my business."

She stared at him. More advice. What more could she expect? At least he was offering the promise to talk about it, if not now then later. Lifting himself again he walked away. Bianca closed her eyes; thoughtful, hopeful and more settled.

As night came around, Michael returned to the apartment with a calmer, more pleasant nature, bringing dinner as a peace offering. The words she had hoped to hear did not come; instead it was idle chit-chat of the day's events, a few affectionate touches, and the inevitable journey back to the bedroom. And again he did not stay. She fell into a patterned routine, events always occurring the same way. Bianca stopped questioning Michael's whereabouts to prevent having an argument with him. She let him do what he pleased, always leaving her to sleep alone at the end of the night.

It was one of these nights that she heard something crash to the floor in the bathroom, startling her awake. Always on guard, she opened her eyes quickly and stared at the light shining under the slit of the door, hearing Michael curse from behind it. Sleepily lifting herself from the bed, she pulled a nightgown over her head as she made her way over, pressing on the door lightly as it creaked open.

"Michael?" she questioned softly, rubbing her eyes to adjust to the light.

He was only half-dressed, pants discarded on the floor, removing a damp piece of cloth and replacing it with a fresher, cleaner one. Blood flowed freely from a deep wound slashed across his hip, running in rivulets down his leg as he tried vainly to soak it up with what little cloth remained on the sink.

"Michael! What happened?" she gasped, rushing forward to scoop up the remains of the first aid kit that had tumbled to the floor.

"Target got a little too close for comfort," he explained, seething as he pulled the cloth back slightly to inspect the wound, obviously in pain.

"That looks bad," she said, his hip level with her eyes as she inspected the wound, her fingers rising towards it but stopping short of touching it.

"I need you to do something for me," he said calmly.

"What? What can I do?"

"Fix it," he said, slamming his hand down onto the counter with an object underneath it. "With this."

"Not with that," Bianca said, shaking her head warily as she looked at the needle and thread that he had placed there. "Can't you just go to a healer or something?"

"There's no time! It has to be done now. I have to get back out there!" Picking the needle back up he held it out to her. "Bianca, please. I'd do it myself but I can't reach. The angle's too difficult to see. You need to do this."

Screwing her nose up she took it from him, tentatively touching the wound with her other hand, seeing him wince. Watching what she was doing through half-lidded eyes, she pushed the needle through the skin, hearing him yell, trying to keep steady as he leant forward to grip the edge of the basin. Her fingers slipping in the blood, it reminded her of the scenario that had brought her here in the first place. She pulled the needle out, threading it through again, her hand seeming to go a little further than it was meant to. Bianca thought she was seeing double from over-concentrating, from not wanting to see what she was doing, until Michael glanced down at her, bellowing, smacking her hand away so that she lost her hold on the needle completely.

"Don't you do that. Don't you ever do that!" he scolded.

"What? I don't know what I did. What?" she cried.

"You're not taking my powers! You do what I told you to do, nothing else."

She looked at him blankly. She didn't know what he was talking about. If this was something else, some other trait or skill she was meant to have, he had never taught her. He had never even told her about it.

Shakily she reached back for the swinging needle, watching him carefully as she moved back to his side. She threaded the rest of the wound as lightly and close as she could, making sure to keep enough distance between her hand and his hip so that he wouldn't have another irritable outburst again. Tying off the thread, she leant away as he passed her down the scissors, afraid of what he could do with them. His hands just about to snap the basin in half, if only he was strong enough to do it, Bianca was glad to see that he wasn't going to take it out on her. Grabbing a fresh cloth she ran it under the water, cleaning the blood from his leg, brushing his hair behind his ear as she stood again. Turning his head he glared at her. She slowly drew her hand away.

"Go back to bed," he ordered.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked.

"No, I have to do this on my own. Go!"

Backing away as she watched him, she reached behind her for the door, pushing it back open as she backed into the bedroom.

"Close the door!" she heard him call.

Obediently she closed it behind her. Climbing back into the bed and pulling the sheets over her legs she stared at the door. He didn't come out. Lying her head down on the pillow she kept her eyes open until the light disappeared from under the doorway. She heard a small sound from inside and knew he was gone. Chewing on her lower lip, she closed her eyes, hoping he'd be there in the morning.


	13. Chapter 13

**2019**

"Hey, look who's here!"

Bianca looked up from the book she was reading, smiling as she saw Greg pull up a seat across the table from her and then turning her attention back to the open volume on the table.

"Hi Greg."

"Haven't seen you around here in a while," Greg commented, turning off the mp3 player inside the face of his watch and closing the cover. She shrugged.

"Busy," she explained.

"You seen today's paper?" he asked, leaning back in his chair until it was balancing on two legs and grasping the newspaper from the wooden counter behind him.

"No, why?" she asked, looking up as he slapped the paper down onto the table, the front headline of The Bay Mirror blazing about a new election in brassy bold type.

"They just announced it this morning. Elections are big business for us."

"Good. I hope you get it then. I don't need the extra workload."

Glancing down at her book again, she pushed it aside and reached for the paper, leafing through the first few pages, not particularly reading anything just looking. Finding nothing of interest halfway through, she closed it again and pushed it back.

"Well that's a change," Greg commented as the paper slid towards him.

"What?"

"You didn't look at the obits."

"Why? Why would I look at those?" she questioned, puzzled. He shrugged.

"Every Phoenix I know likes to look at them and keep a record of their kills. It's a game, a sport to most people."

"I'm not most people."

"No I know. You're special, or at least that's what Michael tells me."

She gave him a brief smile then returned to her book. It didn't interest her anymore. With Greg still watching her intently she started to think that maybe he did want her to read them. More than just a mere suggestion, maybe there was something she should know. With an exaggerated sigh she reached back out for the paper, flicking through the back pages until she hit the classifieds. Scanning down them she didn't find a single name she knew. Her eyes following down in the 'In Memoriam' section a small advertisement emblazoned with a picture caught her eye. She tilted her head, staring at the woman's photo. She recognised her, but she couldn't remember from where. Seeking extra information she read the inscription that followed beneath it:

_IN LOVING MEMORY _

_OF PIPER HALLIWELL_

_Sweet is the sleep that ends all pain,_

_We would not wake you to suffer again._

_Remembering is easy and happens everyday,_

_It is the heartbreak without you that never goes away._

_A year has passed since you left our side,_

_Your body has gone, but the memories never died._

_Blessed be, from your loving family._

"I know this woman," Bianca said, tapping the photo. "She looks familiar. She must be a witch, if you read the last line it gives it away."

Tilting his head to the side trying to read upside down, Greg finally reached out and spun the paper towards him.

"Yeah, you probably would know her. She's one of the Charmed Ones. They were a pretty powerful force for a decade or two."

"I have to find out more about her. I need to know where I know her from," Bianca insisted. "You have books on everything here. Is there one on them?"

"At least," Greg answered.

Standing, he quickly headed straight for the shelf he knew it would be located on, Bianca hurriedly pushing herself out of her chair and racing after him as he disappeared down the aisle. Stopping beside him, he pulled out a few thick books, placing them in her arms. She glanced down at the titles. They were all family names, probably volumes on the different witch covens. None of them said Halliwell.

"I don't see…" Bianca started.

"Here," Greg pulled out a thick, leather-bound red book. Holding it up towards her, he lowered his body slightly and slipped his arm between hers under the books. "Switch. Give me those."

Lifting her shoulder, Bianca tilted her arm and let the books slide down her palm as she grabbed the chunky book from his hand. Laying it flat on her palm she dusted the cover, running her fingers along the edges before she pried it open, flicking over to the first page.

"Derivatives of the Warren witch line, beginning with Melinda Warren, originating in the eighteen hundreds where she was burned at the stake vowing that every generation thereafter would grow stronger and stronger, culminating in the arrival of three sisters centuries later who would hold the ultimate power never before seen in the wiccan world. They would be the chosen ones, the Charmed Ones. The Halliwell lineage producing Prue, Piper and Phoebe brought forth the realisation of that prophecy, their reign holding stronger for more than a decade. The addition of a fourth sister at the loss of one only proved to heighten that power, undefeated for a great amount of time," Bianca read aloud. Flicking the page over, she saw that it went further into detail about their battles & conquests. The entire book was filled with small print and would take a while to read. She looked to Greg. "This is overly detailed, isn't it?"

"Well, as much as it can be, I guess. It's not like whoever wrote it was in their lives every minute of the day."

Closing the book, Bianca combed her hair behind her ear as she smiled at him gratefully. "Do you mind if I borrow this? I just want to read up on them; find out what it is that I can't seem to remember at the moment."

"Sure, just take it up to the front desk and they'll sort you out."

* * *

Bianca sat on the bed, opening up the book and leafing through it slowly. She took in every detail on the pages, every occurrence. They had not been fighting for many years when the eldest sister died. It was proving to be a short reign but the appearance of an unknown half-sister reunited the force once again. Bianca didn't recognise her until she came across some pictures dated 2003. The flaming red hair, she could remember red. Red, alongside the woman she so vividly remembered. But she couldn't spring to mind a thought from that image. All she remembered was seeing them in her apartment, but that couldn't be right. She hadn't lived in the apartment for long that year and the book stated that Paige Matthews had been killed by the Titans preceding that time. Or, at least that's what the faded scripture said. Peering at it closely she felt her hand begin to rise, as if the book was growing bigger. The words glowed slightly, lettering appearing across the page. Reaching the last corner, Bianca looked at it curiously. Turning the page cautiously, she found that there were more stories now, stories including Paige. Flicking back a page she saw the Titan tale had changed, been altered somehow so it didn't seem like it was such a drastic event for the Charmed Ones after all. Paige had survived. Confused, Bianca leafed further through the book. 

Passing through the pages she saw that they had all died a number of times, but amazingly continued to survive each event. She was almost surprised to read that Piper had died, had not been saved or reborn from those dark depths, and that they were struggling to survive as the Power of Two – relying on a witch who could fight but had very little physical power, whose journalism career had become highly demanding due to her popularity; and a half witch-half whitelighter who was having trouble keeping her halves in sync between her charges, her students, and her family.

"I see you made it home," Michael's voice suddenly emanated throughout the room.

"Well somehow I doubt the library is the most dangerous place to be," she responded without looking up. "I've yet to see a demon in there."

"Yes, wouldn't want to see you panic," he said.

She felt the bed depress behind her as he sat down, her eyes lifting from the book, biting back angry words as he pulled her hair back behind her shoulder. His lips falling on her neck, she jerked her head away.

"I thought you wanted me to learn this?" she questioned.

"Depends what you're learning," he replied. Lifting his body slightly, leaning more into her, he peered over her shoulder, chuckling at what he saw in front of her. "The Charmed Ones? You're considering going after them? Why that's just plain suicide. I thought you knew better."

"Well… why couldn't I? They're weaker now with only two."

"I admire your tenacity, Bianca, but that's an impossible task," he said, lightly trailing his fingers down her back. She closed her eyes, moving her head a little as she tried to focus on what he was saying over what he was doing. He reached around her body, closing the book in front of her. "You don't need to waste your time on such meagre tasks."

Sighing, she turned her head towards her shoulder. His face still inches from hers; she could feel his breath blanketing her shoulder.

"What do you want?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

"I want you, Bianca," he said, turning her to face him. She frowned, her eyes lowering until he lifted her chin so she would look back again. She could see the seriousness reflected in his eyes. "I want you."

Closing her eyes she leant forward and kissed him, his hands already working to remove her clothes. She hated herself for not saying no, hated the way she would just give in so easily like he was a weakness to her system, like all this was an addiction she just could not kick. But the truth was she needed him just as much as he needed her, if not more. She needed to feel wanted, needed, loved, even though she knew there was no love in this union, only a release as he had told her all those years ago.

The book clattered to the floor, kicked by a stray foot, buried underneath discarded clothes. She quickly forgot about what she was looking for, the knowledge seeping to the back of her memory about the real identity of Piper Halliwell.

* * *

"Welcome to United Airlines, how can I help you?" the girl behind the desk called. 

"She's awfully perky for this hour of the morning," Michael quipped, moving up to the front of the queue with Bianca.

Bianca ignored him, instead looking around, taking in the surroundings of San Francisco's international airport – the high roof, the pristine glass, the mass amount of people.

"Domestic or international?" the girl asked.

"Domestic," Michael answered.

"And where are we heading to today, sir?"

"Elko, Nevada."

"EKO," she said as she typed in the airport code. "Passenger name?"

"McGee. Andy and Charlie McGee."

Typing in and searching for the name, she moved the mouse and clicked on the correct selection. She looked up, her eyes shifting over to Bianca.

"Could you please put your luggage on the belt," she instructed.

Bianca, still holding onto the strap of the backpack over her shoulder, didn't hear her, her attention still directed elsewhere. Michael sighed irritably, noticing Bianca hadn't made a move to shift any of their belongings.

"Miss?" the girl behind the desk urged.

Watching the flights flick over on the small screens, the families rushing their way up to the other counters trying to hush screaming children, small groups of friends giggling their way through conversations in other line-ups, Bianca wondered if that was the normal life – the kind of life she could never have. Her reverie snapped as Michael turned back, grabbing her arm roughly and yanking her forward.

"Ow!" Bianca cried, looking up at Michael as he turned back to the girl behind the desk and smiled sweetly.

"Sorry, she can be a bit problematic on occasion," he apologised.

As if he had intended to do so all along, Michael reached down and lifted the larger suitcase onto the belt. It wasn't awfully big, they were only going to be gone a few hours at best, but just in case things didn't go as planned they had to be prepared. Next he looped his hand inside the same strap Bianca was holding onto and pulled hard; forcing her to let it go so he could throw the backpack onto the belt also.

"Thank you," the woman said, fumbling behind the desk and producing some papers. "So here are your tickets - two one way passes from San Francisco International to JC Harris with a changeover at Salt Lake City International. You'll be boarding Delta flight four-one-one-nine at three fifteen pm. Please show your boarding passes at the gate, and enjoy your flight."

Bianca followed Michael into the security area which cleared them instantly. They carried no hand luggage, and had no weapons. Another advantage to hiring a Phoenix – they could always conjure instead of carry whatever was needed.

"Is there a specific reason why we're flying this time?" Bianca asked as they walked into the waiting area. "I thought it would be cheaper and easier to shimmer."

"And risk losing track of the target?" Michael shrieked. "I don't think so. He was booked on this flight. It has a changeover. Who knows if he's going to get off in Nevada or Utah? He's tricky, and he's only human. So we act the same, got it?"

"Got it," Bianca repeated, rolling her eyes as she lowered her sunglasses to cover them.

Around them people were dozing in hard plastic chairs, reading books or last minute notes, letting their kids run rings around the various seats as they stared blankly up at the small television playing free-to-air programs with no sound. She glanced out the window; saw the plane already docked, and small vehicles carrying tiny men speeding their way towards the rear to load food and luggage into it.

Bianca sat down in a row of available seats facing the window. Michael sat next to her. She glanced at him, pushing herself back to her feet and walking over to the glass. Minutes later she could feel him standing right behind her.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a low voice, his eyes scanning the room to ensure no-one was watching.

"Looking at the plane," she answered.

"Not what I meant."

She turned to face him, crossing her arms as she looked at him judiciously. "Why are you following me?"

"How else am I going to keep an eye on you?" he retorted.

"You're counting on me to screw up?" she cried, trying not to be too loud as to alert attention to them.

"Not if I'm here you won't."

Angrily turning her head to the side she watched the last few passengers trailing into the waiting area as the flight was called for boarding. Happy honeymooners passed by and Bianca wondered how they could look so blissful when all she felt was miserable. She had never known that kind of love, never felt that kind of peace, and probably never would. Slipping out from between Michael and the glass window she barely gave him a glance as she strode towards the flight attendant waiting at the door.

"Ticket?" the woman requested.

Bianca lifted her hands, staring at them as if she was surprised they were empty, nervously brushing them on her thighs. Michael reached around her, his hand on her back as he smiled at the woman and handed over the boarding passes. He tapped her a little too harshly and she jolted forward.

"She's always losing things," he said. "Just a little too eager to get where we're going, I think. She forgot I had the tickets."

"If you'll just make your way up the walkway, sir," the attendant said, handing him back the passes after she scanned them.

Michael gave Bianca a slight push forward. Quickening her pace, she managed to stay two steps in front of him until they got on the plane, squeezing their way through the crowds of people standing in the aisles as they threw their onboard luggage into the overhead compartments. Sliding past another man, Bianca took a seat by the window, Michael slipping into the seat next to her, looking over the belt as he fastened it with such caution that someone would have thought he manufactured the device. Bianca rested her head back against the seat, closing her eyes and listening to the on-board announcements. She knew she should be watching the safety demonstration, but she didn't particularly care. They always had an extra way out. A number of ways out. More advantages to being Phoenix.

As the engines started to rumble she looked out the window, watching the tarmac roll by as the plane eased out onto the surface, heading away from the airport building and towards the greenery and water that was the landing and takeoff strip. Closing her eyes again as the sound of the engines picked up, she sank back into the chair as the plane took off, feeling nothing of the pressure pressing against her as they became airborne. She watched the clouds pass by the window outside, thin wisps of white that wrapped around the wings and finally became little patches down below, looking like large fluffy masses you could sit on and look down at the world. How she wanted to be outside, sit there alone and just observe what was happening to everyone else, not having to take part in any of the action herself. The sun now well out of sight, she lifted the sunglasses back onto the top of her head, reaching out to the back of the chair in front of her and pulling out the magazine from inside it. Sitting back again, she casually leafed through it, looking for something to kill the time. She could feel Michael staring at her, watching her. Shrugging uncomfortably, she continued to ignore him and flipped to the next page.

"You don't have to pretend I'm a stranger," he said quietly. Bianca glanced up to him.

"Why? You want to have an actual conversation? I thought you weren't into that," she retorted.

"That doesn't mean you have to ignore me completely. A bit of acknowledgement would be nice, and yes even a casual word coming from your mouth would also be a pleasure."

"What would you like to talk about?" Bianca questioned, her eyes shifting back to the magazine in front of her. "Because I don't think knives and killing people are great topics of discussion on terrorist conscious airlines."

Michael scoffed, shaking his head as he looked back to the seat in front of him. "Have it your way."

Bianca smiled. It was nothing major, but she'd had a little victory over him. Just one. For the first time he didn't have an evasive or derogatory remark to come back at her with. He wasn't trying to push the blame onto her. He'd let it slide. She wondered how many more of these she could come up with, how many little moments she could accumulate before he'd trust her enough to do what she wanted, to do what he thought she could not. He was encroaching on her freedom. Everywhere she went, he went, and so did the snide little comments, the constant down putting, and his obsessive need for control – over the situation at hand, over the target, and even over her. At first it was inspiring, even cute, but now it was just annoying.

Flipping over to the next page in the magazine she saw it was an article spread on San Francisco. The largest picture in the corner was one displaying the Golden Gate Bridge in all its fine glory. She had never seen it in person, at least not that she could remember. Maybe shadowing in the distance, but she'd never had a chance to be close to it, to drive across it. It felt wrong to have lived in one city her whole life and not seen its biggest drawcard. Closing the magazine quickly, she stuffed it into the pocket in front of her, not wanting to be reminded of the freedom she'd never had.


	14. Chapter 14

**2019** _cont._

Waking up late in the night, Bianca reluctantly opened up her eyes as she rolled over. The clock showed it was after 2am and she wasn't surprised to find the bed empty despite the fact they were staying in a hotel room where there were no extra places to sleep. The glare of the Las Vegas strip shone through the wide window. Bianca pushed herself up, wrapping the sheet around her, holding the edge at her chest as she walked over to the glass and looked out. Stained with raindrops, she could see people dashing here and there below as they frantically ran for shelter; holding newspapers, jackets or the odd pamphlet over their heads for makeshift cover. From here she could just make out part of the cascading waterfall that stood outside The Mirage, illuminated in golden light as if it was a gift from the gods.

Shuddering slightly at the coolness of the lowered temperature, she turned back towards the door, checking every available spot for Michael. He was nowhere to be found. Frowning, she headed towards the door, opening it slightly to look out. A tall, bulky, light-skinned man with a shaved head stood outside the door. Seeing how well-dressed he was, Bianca presumed he was part of the hotel security.

Closing the door quietly, she walked back towards the suitcase sitting on the floor, barely unpacked, and found some clothes to change into. Dressing and running a brush through her hair, she headed back towards the door intending to go down to the casino to find Michael. Stepping out, she found the guard immediately blocking her way.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you'll have to return to your room," he said.

"Why?" Bianca replied, indignant.

"I'm under orders to keep these rooms contained."

"But my partner's down in the casino!" Bianca protested, indicating towards the elevator. "I just want to go down and bring him back here."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that. Now please return to your room and wait for him there."

Pursing her lips, she stepped to one side and he followed. He wasn't letting her go anywhere. Glaring at him, she spun back around and went inside, closing the door and her eyes as she tried to shimmer out. Her attempts didn't work, leaving her both confused and worried that she had either forgotten how to use her powers or lost them altogether.

"What is wrong with me?" she whispered harshly, though it sounded much louder in the quiet room.

Pacing the room a few times, she finally took a seat on the edge of the king size bed, staring blankly at the television in the cabinet in front of her. She didn't want to watch it, and she didn't want to sleep, she just wanted to know where Michael had gone and why she now felt so powerless.

An hour passed, and it came close to the second before the door finally clicked open. Sitting in the darkness, almost slipping into slumber from sheer exhaustion, Bianca lifted herself up from the curled position she had formed at the end of the bed, watching as Michael dumped a small bag onto the stool by the door before peeling off his jacket.

"Where were you?" she inquired.

"Indulging in our profits," he explained without looking at her.

"In the casino?" she asked. He nodded. Glancing at the small bag, she looked back at him angrily, her voice rising. "You gambled away the bounty?"

"I was living the high life," he said, raising his hand and pointing forcefully at her. "Something of which you know nothing about."

"Maybe I could have if I had a chance," she shot back at him. "The guard wouldn't even let me out the door! And you just left me here going out of my mind over whether I've lost my powers, and where you'd gone to, while you were out enjoying yourself instead spending our money on booze and whatever else tickled your fancy. Was there even a point to me coming?"

"You know if I didn't feel I needed you, I probably would have left you behind."

Bianca looked down, unsure of whether he was paying her a compliment or just being cruel. Michael sat down next to her, lifting her hair with his hand over her shoulder. She glanced up at him.

"You haven't lost your powers," he said softly. "You're probably just worn out. It can happen. That's why I left you here, so you could sleep and reenergise. It's not going to do you any good if you stay up all night worrying about where I am and what I'm doing."

"Give me reason not to," she whispered.

Studying her eyes for a moment, he turned back, pushing down his boots with his hands and throwing them towards the wall.

"We'll shimmer back tomorrow. You shouldn't worry about the money, it's not like we have to fly back, nor are we short on jobs. We'll have just as much next week." Looking back at her he continued: "You're not frivolous or materialistic, Bianca. I know that. I don't understand where this sudden insecurity is coming from."

"I just don't want to feel like I've wasted my time," she said quietly.

"You haven't," he assured her. "Up until now at least. You're wasting your time fretting over trivial things when you should be sleeping. Now lie down before I do decide to leave you behind, with or without your powers."

Dismissing the threat, she focused instead on the fact he had called her feelings for him trivial. Defensively, she wanted to tell him how important he was to her, but he didn't seem to care. Agitated, she finally lay down and grasped the pillow tightly as she pulled it under her head. What more could she do to make him happy? Whatever she did, whatever she tried, no matter how many times she did what he asked with or without resignation, it just never seemed to be enough. She wondered if he'd even dare to lie next to her. Listening hard, she heard him move off to the bathroom and close the door. Shutting her eyes, she kept listening for that continued silence, the one that would tell her he'd taken off somewhere again. She knew all too well what he was like, but her theory shattered when she heard his voice coming through the wall – soft enough so that she couldn't hear what he was saying, but rhythmically patterned out as if he was reciting an incantation. Her heard feeling light, she quickly drifted off to sleep.

The sun's rays shone through the window when she awoke, illuminating the cream and burgundy textures of the furniture and walls. Lifting herself up, she found that despite the interrupted stream of sleep overnight, she wasn't tired at all.

Running a hand through her hair, she looked at the clock and found it was nearly time to check-out. Looking across to the other side of the bed, she was surprised to find Michael laying there. Even in his sleep he looked combative – one hand flat on his stomach and the other tucked behind the pillow underneath his head, seemingly ready to conjure a sharp object at the ready. Tilting her head to the side she watched him for a moment. Never having seen him sleep, never having him so near to her in such an off-guarded manner, she was tempted to take some initiative and do something she wanted to do, and to take back a little control herself. Leaning down over him, hovering for a few seconds just inches from his face waiting to see if his eyes would open, she gathered enough courage to continue her path and kiss his lips. Within seconds he was awake, aware, his hands striking with deadly force as they rushed forward grabbing her, throwing her onto her back on the other side of the bed, pinning her down as he pressed her body deep into the mattress.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled.

"Nothing," she answered innocently. Seemingly realising exactly what position he had her in, his eyes roamed down her body then back up again. She searched his face as his eyes came back into contact with hers, looking for a reaction, some kind of sign so that she knew how he felt but again she could only see that same stone-cold expression he always wore on his face. "We have to leave in fifteen minutes."

Giving her shoulders a little push, he propelled himself backwards. "Don't start thinking you're in charge now. You can get away with one stunt, but you start pulling more and you're going to get yourself into trouble. Don't give in to weakness."

Closing her eyes briefly, she sat herself up as she watched him pick up the suitcase and throw it onto the bed, scooting her feet out of the way hastily so he wouldn't hit her with it. Flipping it open, she watched as he threw in the small satchel he'd left on the chair overnight. Closing and locking it, he pushed it towards her.

"Shimmer back. Take that with you," he instructed. "I'll go check out."

Hesitantly looking at him, she reached out and pulled the suitcase towards her, tightening her grip on the handle.

"You're coming back too, right?" she asked.

Sighing, he looked back to her. "Yes, I'll meet you back at home. Just let me do this first, okay? Can't let them send out the search party if they think we've just vanished out of thin air now, can we?"

Lifting herself up, she shimmered back to the living room of his apartment, looking around as if she expected something to have changed in their overnight absence. Placing the suitcase on the couch, she wanted to open it to see exactly how much of their bounty was left; tempted to even throw the entire thing over the balcony she was so annoyed with what he had done.

"Bianca," Michael said from behind her. She looked up and over her shoulder quickly. "You didn't believe me?"

Biting her bottom lip, she sadly looked away. She didn't know what to make of him. For someone she had known for many years, had lived with, had slept with, and had given her heart to, it still felt like he was a stranger.

The shrill echo of the phone rang from the kitchen as Michael began heading back through the bedroom towards the bathroom. Bianca let go of the suitcase, letting it drop flat onto the cushion beneath it.

"Can you get that for me?" Michael called out to her.

Turning her head from the bedroom door towards the kitchen, she moved slowly toward the phone, as if answering it might be the start to something of a bad nature. She was beginning to think her instincts were right once she picked up the receiver and was greeted by Abe on the other end.

"Where's Michael?" he inquired.

"He's here," Bianca started.

"He's late!" Abe shouted down the other end of the phone, Bianca pulling the receiver away so he wouldn't blast her eardrums. "What did the two of you get up to that kept you so long?"

"Nothing, we were sleeping."

"Just put him on," Abe demanded.

Wandering towards the bedroom doorway she saw the bathroom door closed, heard Michael again speaking as she had heard earlier that morning before she'd fallen asleep.

"Michael!" she called.

He wrenched the door open, stepping outside and closing it behind him, finally looking over to her.

"It's for me?" he questioned.

"Abe," she said shortly, holding the phone out towards him.

Michael quickened his pace towards her, snatching the phone from her hand and instantly moving away from her, back out towards the kitchen. Curious about what he had been doing, Bianca walked over to the bathroom and opened the door slowly, peering inside. Water stains, a few candles, she found nothing that looked different from the usual. Closing the door again she walked back out to where he was, watching him hang up the phone and head straight for the front door.

"Where are you going? What did he want you for?" she asked.

"Reports. I'm late. Stay here," he said quickly, yanking the door open and slamming it behind him.

She stared at the door, glancing back towards the kitchen as she seated herself on the couch. Thinking it over, she wondered why she'd let him leave on his own. It was her mission as well; she didn't need to leave all the responsibility with him. Pushing herself back up, she tried to shimmer out and again found she couldn't go anywhere. Frowning, she tried again. She had gotten back here with no problem, but now she couldn't leave. Glancing towards the door she thought she'd have to try the practical approach and walk over, or at least speed her way to the base of the building to catch up with Michael. Pulling the door open wide, she stepped out into the hallway, freezing when she saw the man standing there, his back against the wall and his arms folded.

"What are you doing here?" she yelled, surprised to see him. As he unfolded his arms and stepped towards her, she glanced down at his hands and saw the top half of a Phoenix birthmark on his wrist. Confused, her eyes trailed back up to his face as he stepped closer. "I thought you were just hotel security, casino security; you're not supposed to be here, you're supposed to be in Las Vegas."

"The only place I'm meant to be is where Michael tells me to be," he answered.

"Michael?"

"Yes, and right now it's here. Now go back in before I have to do something I don't want to."

Bianca took a step back, her eyes locked on him and his movements. Quickly she glanced at the door before concentrating on his form again. He had sounded threatening. She wouldn't be able to defend herself without her powers. But he'd also said he was under orders from Michael, and she knew he wouldn't keep her guarded unless she was a threat. Her hands behind her back as he blocked off any escape she had, she decided to try something small. Curling her hand up, she conjured a pair of dice into them, pleased to feel the cool cubic surfaces against her hand, the corners digging into her palm. Satisfied that her powers were working again and not wanting to be confrontational, she stepped back into the apartment and shoved the dice into her rear pocket. Closing the door, she decided to try to shimmer out again and completely surpass the guard. Again she found she could not do it. Holding her hand out in front of her, she tried to conjure something else but her palm remained empty. She looked back towards the bedroom doorway, thinking of how she had heard Michael saying something earlier, thinking of how it had sounded the same as what she'd heard in the hotel room. It was Michael, it had to be Michael. He'd cast some kind of containment spell over where she was so she couldn't get out, so she couldn't use her powers. He was playing gatekeeper, taking great pride in being able to hold the keys to her freedom.

Throwing her hand down in frustration, she raced out onto the balcony and gripped the edge, tilting her body over as she looked down onto the street below. It was too high up for her to climb down, and she wasn't about to throw herself to her death. Turning around, she walked back to the living room and grabbed the suitcase, determined now more than ever to throw it over. As it tumbled open in her hands, obviously unlatched, she saw that the bag containing the bounty was gone. Now furious, feeling as if she'd been played, she took the empty suitcase and tossed it from the balcony. Racing back to the living room she collected his spilled belongings and threw them over as well. Hearing a click at the doorway, she turned back and looked inside the apartment, her hands still resting on the balcony wall.

"Bianca, what the hell are you doing?" Michael yelled out as she stalked back inside, looking at him darkly. "I won't have you throwing temper tantrums in my apartment!"

"Why not? You think you can do whatever the hell you want to, why can't I?"

"I'm not going over this with you again. You want to act like a spoilt brat, fine, but I'm going to equal everything you do."

Waving his hand, her clothes vanished from the floor. Bianca raced forward angrily, fuming as she stopped in front of him.

"What gives you the right to take away my freedom? You have guards on the door – all the way from Las Vegas to here, you have people keeping me inside while you roam free. You took away my powers so I can't go anywhere or do anything. I'm not your prisoner, Michael! Why are you doing this to me?"

"I have to protect what's valuable to me," Michael said, unfazed. Slowly Bianca shook her head.

"Don't you lie to me. Don't pretend you care when you don't!"

"You want the truth, Bianca? You want to know why I keep you here? You're a prime fighter and a good fuck."

Enraged, she instantly raised her hand, swinging hard to slap him across the face, her hand stopped by his just short of making contact. Expertly he twisted her arm around so that he had it flat against her back, pain shooting up and down her wrist and arm as he tightened his grip and yanked it further up between her shoulder blades, leaning down close to her ear.

"Don't you ever do that," he growled. "You only do what I tell you to. You are mine, wholly, completely. You surrendered to that years ago. Don't act like you never knew."

As much as it hurt, Bianca attempted to pull forward, twisting away, trying to wrestle out of his grip. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. His controlling attitude had gone too far this time – now he was viewing her as a possession – like his couch, his phone, his bed. She wasn't something he had bought or earned, circumstances had just made it this way.

"Let me go!" she cried, trying to pull away from him again. He only tightened his grip, yanking her back hard against him.

"Don't even think about it. We have eyes and ears everywhere. You know that. We'll find you."

Pressing her tongue against her teeth, she listened to what he was saying. The thought had never occurred to her, but now he was giving her ideas. He'd always told her you could never escape the Phoenix, but now he was giving her hope. The very fact that he was worried about it told her it was possible. Roughly he pushed her forward, her leg hitting the base and her forearm bashing the arm of the chair as she fell into it. Tossing her head, she looked at him hatefully as she turned around. He was holding one hand in the other, rubbing his thumb over his palm as he looked at her. She didn't like the look in his eyes at all. Deciding against being more violent towards her, he turned towards the door and left again, leaving her in the exact same powerless and incarcerated situation she had been before. Rushing at the door behind him, she pulled at the handle and found it locked.

"You can't keep me in here!" she shouted, beating her fist against the door.

It was no use, he didn't come back. Reluctantly she made her way back to the couch, sitting down and inspecting the rapidly forming bruise on her arm. She didn't know how many hours had passed before she heard a voice at the door, a familiar one that could almost pass for friendly.

"Michael's not here," she heard the guard say.

"Oh, okay, well should I come back later?" Greg asked. "I mean, I didn't think he'd be this long in Nevada."

"Do so. He is back, but just gone out."

"Greg!" Bianca shouted, jumping to her feet and racing for the door. If she had any hope of getting out of here, then maybe he could provide her with it.

"Either fighting or fucking, right?" Greg sighed. "Don't look at me like that, you know his reputation. Common knowledge." Hearing Bianca call out an element of surprise descended into his voice. "Is Bianca still in there?"

"Greg, let me out!" she shouted, trying to be louder this time.

"Oh c'mon, I know she's hot and all, but it's not like I want to have my piece of her while he's away," Greg said sarcastically.

"You can't let her out, Michael's orders," the guard snapped, stepping in closer to the doorway. Greg tilted his head to the side.

"Yeah, seems he's getting a bit high-and-mighty now he's directly under Abe. Just cause he's trying to keep her away from every other piece of ass he's getting, this is totally unreasonable. He can't keep her caged, it's inhumane." Greg raised his hands towards the lock and the guard tried to move himself between Greg and the door with little success. "Did you forget I have extra mojo?"

Greg blasted the lock, taking a small chunk out of the door in the process. The guard moved away, taking a step around to the back of Greg and thrusting his hand into the middle of his body.

"No, but I wouldn't mind it for myself," the guard said.

Finally draining Greg of his powers, the guard conjured an athame and plunged it into his chest, watching as his body disintegrated, flaming away into nothingness. Bianca pulled the door open, seeing Greg's body for only seconds before he disappeared. Her eyes lifted towards the guard, smug that he had stolen Greg's powers and destroyed an intervening Phoenix. She could have panicked, she could have screamed and cried about it, but instead she remained calm. The only obstacle between her and outside, and she knew her powers worked outside of this door, was the guard.

"You know he's right," she said. Tilting her head and lifting her chin as she stepped in towards him. "You obviously know what you're doing. I like that. If Michael gets to play, why shouldn't you? Not like anyone's here. And you can always keep a closer eye on me from inside."

Her fingers playing about his chest, trailing lightly down to his stomach, she waited to see the change in his eyes, to see whether he would fall for it or not. She smiled as he raised his eyebrows, nodding genially, taking a step or two back and seeing him follow her inside. Softly she closed the door behind them, not wanting him to be suspicious in the least.

"Why don't I get us something to drink?" she said, heading towards the kitchen as he seated himself on the couch.

Frantically she went through the cupboards, keeping low and as quiet as she could as she searched for the motherwort. She needed enough to knock him out otherwise she was going to find herself in a predicament she didn't want to be in. Finally discovering a small jar with the powdered version, thankful that it was already conveniently in dissolvable format, she next began to look through the cupboards for something strong enough that he wouldn't notice the odd taste. Grabbing a bottle of scotch, she placed it on the counter as she fossicked in the higher cupboard for two glasses. Placing them on the counter as well, she quickly glanced towards the guard, ensuring he wasn't watching what she was doing. She didn't want to be caught out spiking his drink in an attempt to knock him out.

Keeping one glass far on her left, she poured out the scotch and sprinkled the motherwort into it, swirling it around lightly so that the herb would settle as she took the glasses into the living room. She held the glass containing the motherwort out to him as she held the other close to her chest. Instead of taking it, he just looked at it vigilantly.

"It's just one glass. It's not going to kill you," she said.

As if to illustrate her point, she quickly downed the liquid, trying not to give a distasteful change of expression as it burned her throat on the way down. At first suspicious of her comment, the guard found her demonstration quite amusing, taking the glass from her and devouring it in the same fashion. She waited for a reaction and was disappointed to find that it was not instantaneous. Placing her glass on the coffee table behind her, she wondered how she could bide her time without having to engage into any kind of falsely promised fornication with the man in front of her. Spying his arm brushing by her leg as he placed his own glass next to hers, she suddenly found his arm wrapped around her legs. Pulling her forward, she landed on his lap, and was now close enough to see the leering look in his eyes.

"You like the hard stuff, do ya?" he questioned rhetorically.

Already feeling sick to the stomach, she wanted to pull away from his alcohol tinged breath, but she kept herself composed, knowing there was a reason she was doing all this, and unless she wanted to end up in a worse situation she had better play along. Lifting her fingers to his face, she gently traced his jaw line.

"Well it wouldn't be any fun if it wasn't," she said, playfully pouting.

Taking her hand, he kept his eyes on her as he pressed the base of her palm to his lips, throwing it away as he moved closer to her face. Leaning back as his body leaned forward, having the fleeting thought she was going to end up under him at this rate which wouldn't be a smart idea if he suddenly dropped off to sleep, she lifted her index finger and pressed it to his lips, barring him from going any further.

"This isn't exactly the most proactive position to be in," she said. Leaning forward, putting all her weight onto one knee, she lifted the other leg over his and straddled his waist, her face now only inches from his. "Much better."

Placing her hands on his face, she raised herself up so that she was pressed more into his body, rubbing her thumb harshly across his lips so that she wouldn't pick up any of the motherwort. Satisfied she was safe, she leant down and kissed him, feeling his hands travelling up her back and then firmly pressing down on her head. With great effort, she pulled back, his hands now wandering down towards her jeans and popping open the button. Her hands walking their way down his chest, she drew in a panicked breath as her eyes made their way back up to his and she saw they weren't even glazed. The herb wasn't taking effect fast enough, or at all. Trying to keep him distracted, she pressed herself against him again, pulling his head towards hers as she kissed him, fumbling in her back pocket with the other hand and scooping out the dice.

"Open up," she whispered, resting her forehead against his.

As he did so, she hastily brought her hand forward, pushing the dice into his mouth and down his throat. Snapping his jaw closed, she held her hand tightly over his mouth, her eyes darkening as she watched him struggle beneath her. She knew Phoenix's had no reconstitution abilities for suffocation, and this was an effective way to get rid of one. Seeing his eyes widen as he stared up at her, she saw the light begin to dim, and finally go as he passed away. Roughly pushing him as she stood back up, she refastened her jeans and looked around. Michael had been gone so long that surely he would be back any minute. There wasn't any time to pack, she had to leave now. Racing out into the hallway, she pushed her way into the fire escape and shimmered her way over to her aunt's place.

She wasn't sure if her Aunt Kate would be home, but it was worth a shot. It was the only place she could think of to go to, and it was away from Michael. But as she discovered when she walked into the kitchen, not far away enough. Sure her Aunt Kate was home, on the table, skirt hiked up to the knees, having one of those fun moments the two had always eluded to. She had never thought about it, never worked it out, but seeing him indulging in one of his two favourite pastimes according to Greg, and with someone she knew and knew well, it made her feel sick to her stomach. She could have handled anyone else, but her aunt – someone she'd loved and trusted her whole life – was betraying her. The same way that everyone she knew had betrayed her. With the odd feeling of having intruded and not belonging there, she spun quickly, taking the front way out and slamming the door behind her. She couldn't trust anyone anymore. The only person she could rely on was herself.

And so she threw herself out into the big wide world, frightened of what was to come now that she had to face it alone. Folding her arms she walked further down the darkening empty street, rubbing her arms as the wind picked up and scattered stray papers past her feet. She couldn't cry, she couldn't feel sadness, because right as this moment no emotion was stronger than that of hate. Discontentment ruled her being, and something as simple as knowing other people were suffering just as badly as her brought her some kind of pleasure. Stopping by the newsstand, she looked at the major headline for the day: _Hilton Empire devastated by destruction of Lights of Paris nightclub. Mayor warns citizens to be alert not alarmed of terrorist activities. Superintendent Morris says San Francisco PD has cornered suspects and repeat activities will not be viewed lightly. _

Falling asleep in the first sheltered place she could find, she woke the next morning and realised that she had nothing. She couldn't go back to Michael's, and she was certainly not going to face her Aunt Kate again. Her mother was completely out of the question. She would have to do something to survive – to provide herself with food, with shelter. There was only one thing she knew how to do, and that was be an assassin. She was going to have to work to survive. Now she understood everything she had been told. Everything she had ever learnt she was going to need. She knew she'd have to be evasive to avoid the Phoenix, to avoid being found, and that was going to be difficult with the same clientele, but now was the time to prove that she could do it better.

Running her hands back through her hair, she straightened her clothes and shimmered to a small cave in the underworld, a very thin and pale dark-robed man standing before her. She heard his neck crack brutally as he turned his head towards her, eyeing her with inquisitiveness.

"Phoenix, what can I do for you?" he asked, his voice showing he was both nefarious by name and by nature.

"I want a job," Bianca replied confidently. "I want to kill someone for you."


	15. Chapter 15

**2022**

Throwing on a thick jacket and zipping it up, Bianca turned quickly as a shadow passed through the window into the motel room she had hired out for the week. Again the thought passed fleetingly that it was Michael, or one of the Phoenix. She was always on-guard now, always on the move, but no matter if she had succeeded in evading their physical presence they still haunted her memory and her mind. There was no true escape. Her eyes scanning the wall for a few minutes, ensuring there would be no threat if she left, she turned back and shimmered out.

Her task today was simple, she just had to find a certain witch the Sorcerer was looking for and she would get paid. Knowing she was living on the last of her previous payment which would surely run out by the end of the week, she was thankful that she had been given an easy job such as tracking to see her through. This was an assured payment, one she was confidant she could obtain and therefore knew she wouldn't end up out on the street for weeks at a time as had often happened to her before. It was less difficult to hide out in the open, and she barely slept for fear of being found or running into another Phoenix who would drag her back to where she didn't want to be.

Shimmering into a small alcove along the outside brick wall of one of the buildings in town, she stepped out into the misty morning, the fog just starting to lift as the sun began to rise higher into the sky. Spying someone fitting the young witch's description, she saw him leaving his apartment building, racing over to catch the tram before it sped past him. Quickly she made her way over to the queue, climbing on after him and slipping between a crowd of people until she reached a spare seat up the back. Keeping a close eye on him, her eyes periodically flicked to the window as she surveyed the many buildings they were travelling past. As the tram came to a stop, she suddenly saw him disembarking, pushing herself up and rushing past the other people to follow him off. Groans and grunts from annoyed people were aired behind her as she left, leaping off the stairs of the tram seconds before it took off again. Watching him cross the street, she hastily made her way to the nearby coffee stall, quickly paying for a cup and raising it to warm her lips as she tried to act preoccupied so no-one would notice her stalker-like actions.

Waiting a while and seeing that he wasn't coming back out of the building, she determined he must be working. She now knew where his home and workplace were, what route he caught to get to work, surely it was enough for the Sorcerer. Discarding her cup and looking around for a good place to disappear from, she slipped behind the large dumpster in the nearby alley and shimmered down to the Underworld.

The Sorcerer was working on a potion of some means, throwing various ingredients into the large pot before him until it started billowing smoke into his face. His attention diverted to Bianca as he heard her shimmer in. Leaving the task before him, he made his way over to her.

"Did you find him? Tell me what you found out," he said quickly.

"Uh uh," she said, shaking her head. "First the bounty."

The Sorcerer waved his hand absently in the air. "Later. You'll get your money. I'm not paying on lack of information."

"I did find him," Bianca said.

"And?" he pressed.

"I know where he's living, where he's working, what route and mode of transportation he takes to get there." She paused, looking him over. "He doesn't seem to be as threatening as you make him out to be. In fact he appears to be living a normal life."

"Well in that case he doesn't need to be mixed up in the world of magic. I want his powers," the Sorcerer said. Bianca frowned, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. This was meant to be easy. He was supposed to pay her today and then she could go on her merry way, but now he was making more demands of her. "I'll double the bounty."

"Triple it," she returned, bargaining with him. She knew double was good enough to get by for a while without any problems, but if he agreed on tripling it she could live without worry for months, without having to do another job, she could maybe even venture to another state for a while and completely drop off the radar.

"Triple?" he shrieked. Seeing she was being obstinate in both stance and attitude, he conceded. "Okay, fine, triple, but you get those powers and give them to me the second you do."

"And then you'll pay me?" she questioned. He nodded. "No down payment?"

"You're asking a bit much, aren't you? I agreed to your price; now go do your job."

Looking at him darkly, she shimmered out, back to where she had left earlier - behind the dumpster in the alley. Frequenting the many stores across from the witch's workplace, she kept an eye on it to see when he would leave. For days she repeated the routine until she had every factor down, knew exactly what time he would leave down to the second, when he left for lunch, when he ventured home again. It was only on the very last day of the week she knew she had to do something, things were getting critical - she needed the money, she had to go after him now.

Arriving early enough to catch him before he left for work, Bianca crossed the street and inspected the front of the apartment complex. The door was locked, and it was one of those high security buildings where someone inside would have to let you in. Being inconspicuous, she shimmered just inside the doorway, depressing the handle and pushing her way into the internal stairway by the elevator. Taking the stairs two at a time, she raced up to his floor, stopping outside his doorway. Knowing she didn't have time for pretentious idle chit-chat, she shimmered straight into his apartment – a break and enter without any evidence.

"What the hell? How did you…?" the witch stammered as he walked in and found her. His gaze drifting down to her hand, he watched as she lifted it to generate an energy ball, the jacket sleeve riding up her arm to reveal the birthmark. Practically spitting out the word, he declared: "Phoenix."

"Sit down," she demanded. His sturdy stance showing he wasn't willing to obey, she gave him a stern look then drew her arm back. "Sit!"

Backing him into the kitchen, he took a seat in one of the dining table chairs, watching as she put the ball out and circled to the back of him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she leant down close to his ear.

"Now we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. If you let me take them freely I can assure you it will hurt a lot less."

"I'm not letting you take anything!" the witch protested, attempting to rise from the chair. Applying more pressure to her hand, she forced him back down again.

"Hard way it is."

Slipping the heal of her hand down to the back of his shoulder blades she pushed him forward, gripping his shoulder tightly so he couldn't escape. Thrusting her hand into his back, she kept him still as he tried to get away from the excruciating pain that now racked his body. Bianca could feel his power coursing up through her arm and into her body.

As a last ditch attempt to set himself free from her grasp, the witch used his feet to push both himself and the chair backwards, the top smashing into Bianca's stomach. She gasped, temporarily winded, before she quickly collected her thoughts, re-firing up the energy ball and placing it harshly against the side of his face. Delighting in the sounds of his screams as it scorched him she quickly finished the job and pulled back away from him, kicking the chair for added effect so that both it and he tumbled to the floor.

"I could do more, but I won't," she said to him. "So long as you don't piss someone else off, we'll never have to cross paths again."

Walking away from him, she shimmered out and straight down to the Sorcerer's lair, seeing him instantly jump from his chair upon her arrival.

"Finally!" he cried as she materialised. "I should report you for bad service."

"Do you want the powers or not?" she snapped. He nodded eagerly. "These things take time. If you didn't want it done with accuracy you could have done it yourself."

"Well I thank you for your quintessential skills," he said sarcastically. "But if you don't mind, I did request you pass them onto me."

Stepping in towards him, she raised her hands cupping them together and then joining the heels of her palms, holding them flat out towards him as she repeated the spell to hand the powers over.

_All that was gathered_

_Absorbed in whole_

_Leave my possession_

_Into this soul_

Watching as a warm yellow light circled around her hands from her fingertips in a clockwise direction, she felt the tingling in her palms as something white sparked there, the power finally pushing itself from her hands in a steady stream into the Sorcerer's chest. An ecstatic expression on his face, he did nothing to look as if he was in pain, in fact he looked more confidant as he straightened his body to absorb all the power.

The tingling feelings stopped as the power petered out, the last of it sinking into him and the light disappearing from around her fingers. Closing them up and lowering her hands, she watched as he strode about believing he was the most important person in the world.

"Now, the bounty," Bianca said. "Triple. No part payments. All of it."

"You fool!" he bellowed with a hearty laugh. "There is no bounty. I never had enough to pay you in the first place."

Furious, Bianca could feel her blood beginning to boil. He'd just robbed her completely. She was going to kill him. Charging forward she was thrown back as he lifted his hand and sent her sailing into a nearby metal shelf, her head rebounding forward as it slammed the hard surface, her body crashing to the ground. Instinctively she reached back behind her head to check there was no damage, her eyes closing briefly as she grimaced at the tenderness of the bump. She was to later regret letting her guard down for those few brief seconds once the Sorcerer took advantage of the opportunity and brought his fist down into her face. The contact made her feel as if her nose had exploded, her other hand rising to cover it as he pulled back for a second go. Slightly turning onto her side, she kicked at his shin full force, his balance already off-centre causing him to tumble forward at her feet. Lifting herself up quickly she could feel the copper taste of blood running over her lips and into her mouth. Trying to push himself back to a standing position, he fired up an energy ball into his hand. Feeling behind her, her hand fell on a fallen volume of spells. Gripping the spine tightly she lobbed it at him, the energy ball going astray as it hit another shelf, leaving her pinned with nowhere to go. Seeing him come towards her again, she looked about anxiously for something she could use, her gaze locking on a lead bar hiding between the shelf and the wall. The space to reach it was narrow and unmoveable but she had to try.

Holding onto one edge of the shelf, she pushed her hand behind it, stretching for the bar but finding it just out of reach. Turning her head, she pushed herself further, feeling blindly for the solid object. The Sorcerer finally in range again as his hands burned with fire, she made one last desperate grasp for the cold metal, her fingers brushing against it before a second try encased it in her grip. Yanking her arm back quickly, the Sorcerer only inches away, she struck him hard across the side of the head, hearing a loud crack upon impact. The Sorcerer dropped to the floor. His eyes still wide open but unmoving, she could see the whites slowly giving away to a painful red colour. She knew she had killed him. His eyes would not have turned red unless she had caused something to haemorrhage.

Letting out a few deep breaths as she stared at him, she began to settle enough to think what to do next. Wiping her hand across her face, she climbed back to her feet and stepped over his body, He had to have been lying, a greedy man like him. He must be storing the bounty somewhere. She needed the money desperately, and if he did not have that surely there was something of value she could take. Pulling out the drawers, tossing objects from the shelf onto the ground, she paid no mind to carefulness. She was set on finding something for her survival; recklessness was just an easier way to it.

Cursing upon seeing droplets of blood falling and staining shelves, tables and ornaments where she was searching, she lifted her hand to her face again to try to stop the rush of blood from her nose. This was no good, she was leaving evidence of her being here everywhere, and still she had found nothing that could help her.

Quickly giving up, she shimmered back to her motel room, rushing into the bathroom and grabbing a flannel, thrusting it under the faucet as she ran it as fast as it would go. Lifting the wet cloth to her face, she found the cold soothing despite the winter chill in the air. Keeping her head tilted forward over the basin, she checked every few minutes to see if it had stopped or at least eased. Her eyes finally lifting to the mirror, seeing her face turning to shades of red, purple and black, she inspected her nose to make sure it wasn't broken. Although tender, it still felt intact. Finally washing her entire face as the bleeding stopped, she heard rapping on the door.

"C'mon, open up!" the man shouted from the other side. "I know you're in there, I heard the water running."

"Give me a minute!" Bianca snapped, tossing bloody materials aside before throwing open the door. On the other side stood the motel manager.

"Oh shit, what happened to you?" he asked, looking her over. His concern suddenly turned to suspicion. "Listen, if you're conducting some kind of funny business in here…"

"No, I went out for this," Bianca said, pointing at her face.

"You're past check-out time you know," he said.

"I didn't get paid," Bianca explained. "Can I owe you?"

The motel manager looked back to the parking lot. "I've got other customers waiting for rooms - paying customers. I can't hold off one because you're having financial trouble."

"I will get it. Trust me. Give me 'til tomorrow."

"Tonight. I'll give you three hours. If you can't come up with the goods by then, I'm sorry but you'll have to leave."

Setting her jaw, she nodded, closing the door as he turned to leave. Where was she going to find the money that quickly? She needed time to find sources, time to assess the kill. Three hours was not enough time. Turning and looking back at the bed, she spotted the phone on the bedside table. Running over previous employers, thinking who she could call, she dialled in the number to one that she remembered – Whitaker Rhodes. He was a highly regarded lawyer who had no problems taking out clients and witnesses for the defence, and because he didn't like to get his hands dirty he used assassins to do the job for him.

"You need money?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, ashamed to admit it. She could almost hear him musing on the other end.

"There is one witch on my list. Ryden Hales. I believe you've crossed paths with him before."

"At the Northern Hotel? Yeah."

"When he finishes work, then you can write him off for me."

Bianca fell silent as she thought it over. She'd visited the bar a few times, knew he was one of the bartenders there. She'd seen him perform a few tricks as if he was Tom Cruise in Cocktail, but they were less impressive to her than other patrons for she knew he was only using his powers to do them. He was a young, fairly attractive man, and she knew it would be a waste to end his life, but it was the only way she could buy some time for herself. The only negative factor to this deed at the moment was that she couldn't wait for Ryden to finish work; he wouldn't finish until the early hours of tomorrow morning.

"I can't wait that long. This room needs to be paid off in the next three hours, or I'm out of here," she said.

"Okay then tell me how much the balance is, I'll courier a cheque over to the manager, and then I'll pay you the rest after you've completed the job. If you fail to do this, then I'll cancel that cheque before it has a chance to be cashed, and I'll send the Phoenix after you."

Although annoyed with his threat, she provided him with the details he needed, hanging up the phone and staring at the bedspread. She needed a weapon. Sweeping her hand over the emptiness, a series of knives appeared laying next to each other. All kinds from long to short, straight-edged to rounded, fixed blade to folding ones. Picking up the small hunters knife, she saw it was portable enough for her to carry around with her. Not that she needed to, she could just reconjure it again, but it was always fun and dangerous feeling if she could carry it around without getting caught. Turning it in her hand, she inspected the curved blade, lifting a finger to it to make sure it was sharp enough. She loved the shape of it, how the handle curved into her fingers, how the blade curved away. It was a terrific tool for slashing – quick and efficient. Placing it back on the bedspread, she waved her hand over the assortment and made it disappear again. Raising her hand to her head, feeling it still pounding from the earlier fight, and knowing she had very little time in this room, possibly the last time she'd have a bed for awhile, and craving the rest she needed to reenergise for tonight, she lay herself down onto the pillows and ever so slowly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She was waiting for him out in the alley when he came out to empty discarded glass bottles into the dumpster. Moving quickly out of the shadows, she saw him glance up, scanning the empty area, sighing with relief as a cat jumped from the fire escape of the nearby apartments and raced its way out into the street. His attention diverting back to the dumpster, Bianca took her opportunity to strike, grabbing the back of his collar and bunching it tightly in her fist as she brought the knife around to his throat.

"Ease back, that's it," she cooed.

"What do you want? My wallet or something?" he asked, fumbling around his back pockets as he backed up with her. Although it was tempting, Bianca knew what was in his wallet was probably a whole lot less than what she would get paid for executing him.

"I want a little more than that," she said.

"As inviting as that sounds…" he began.

Catching her by surprise, Ryden blinked out, disappearing from her grasp, reappearing a little further up the alley as he ran for the road. Sighing with frustration, she shimmered out so that she reappeared in front of him, holding her hand out with her palm flat and planting it against his chest as his momentum carried him straight into her.

"I don't understand why you'd run when you know how persistent we can be," she said. Raising her right hand, she lifted it over to her other shoulder as she conjured the hunting knife into her hand, slashing it violently across his neck, not even flinching as the blood spurted from the open gash as he gasped for air that would not come, blood spilling from his mouth instead. "And deadly," she added, letting him drop to the ground.

Behind her she heard slow clapping, footsteps following as someone came closer. Turning quickly she saw a tall man emerging from the shadows of the doorway, a pleased smile on his rugged face.

"Bravo!" he called, clapping one last time before lowering his hands to his sides. "You have some remarkable skills there."

Bianca kept silent, watching him warily, her eyes following him as he stepped closer, circling around her and finally stopping by Ryden's body on the ground. She turned to watch him completely, wondering what exactly his intentions were. Looking down on the body thoughtfully, his long curls falling in his face, he gave Ryden a slight kick with his foot before glancing up to her.

"You don't have to look at me so dubiously. I was merely an observer."

"Take your observing somewhere else," she said boldly, lifting her head up sharply to show she meant it.

"And settle for something with less grandeur? I think not."

He moved away from the body, but didn't move very far, leaving Bianca to wonder what exactly it was that he wanted.

"You spend all of your time lurking in the shadows watching people?" she asked.

"Well that's an inadequately poor view of me," he remarked.

"I can form my own opinion, being as I don't know who 'me' is."

Lifting an eyebrow, he turned his head slightly and saw she really didn't have any idea who he was. Stepping into the most brightly lit spot available in the alley, watching as she subtly inched her way back out of his path, he lifted his hands in an acquiescent gesture.

"I really should talk to the people at the paper, considering my aunt used to work for them, you would think they would give credit where credit was due."

"Credit for what?" she queried.

Smirking, he clasped his hands behind his back and took a step towards the brick building that housed the bar section of the Northern Hotel.

"For the destruction of our corporate masses," he said. "Although I doubt you've read the paper lately, what with all the running and hiding. I was at least hoping you'd have caught the headlines."

"I don't really partake in local business and stock exchange," Bianca responded.

"Not unless it concerned a target," he pointed out. Looking at her seriously as he saw the confusion begin to break on her face, he continued: "Oh, I know who you are. You're the rogue Phoenix everyone is talking about. I've heard whispers of you down in the Underworld. Did you know they've come up with a nickname for you now? They're calling you the Dark Phoenix because you turned your back on your own kind."

Setting her jaw in aggravation, thinking it a great possibility that she'd finally been caught, she tightened her grip on the handle of the hunters knife.

"Okay, so you know who I am. But you never answered me – who are you?" she questioned.

"My name is Wyatt Halliwell. And I am not here for any avaricious reason other than to invite you to join my team, if you care to do so."

Bianca's confusion deepened as the name Halliwell struck a chord with her, but again she could not remember from where she knew it. It was distinctly familiar to her, but nothing recent came to mind of where she had heard it. She knew it was not from one of this man's supposed 'great' achievements he was shamelessly promoting. But for some odd reason his appealing for assistance seemed earnest, not selfish.

"My interest lies in the finesse of your skills, nothing more," he continued. "I'll provide you with what you need. So long as you work exclusively for me, I'll ensure that you never have another problem."

It was a promise that was almost too good to be true. Bianca knew better than to take his word for it. She knew better than to trust a complete stranger, especially ones that appeared where you were and claimed to know all about you; even if his surname was oddly familiar. There had to be a catch, there was always a secondary condition.

"You want me to work for you?" she asked.

"That's right," he replied.

"Strictly business?"

"Of course," Wyatt responded.

Wetting her lips, she looked away from him for a brief moment, thinking about it before her gaze travelled back to him.

"I'll have to think it over," she said.

"I'm sure you'll come to the right conclusion," he said. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper and held it out to her. "Take this. It's my address. You can drop by tomorrow if you want to discuss this further."

Staring at him, she tried to work out why he was offering this, what exactly was in it for him. Her gaze falling to the folded paper, she quickly reached out and snatched it from him as if her speed would keep him oblivious to the fact she had taken it. Before he had a chance to comment any further, she shimmered back to her motel room, seating herself on the bed as she unfolded the paper, smoothing out the wrinkles to read what was on it. Certainly he was right, it was an address. Hearing a knock at the door, she picked it up again quickly, pulling open the drawer and hiding it in the pages of the bible stored in there. Closing the drawer quickly, she headed for the door, presuming it was the manager, and wondering exactly if Whitaker had made good on his payment.


	16. Chapter 16

**2022** _cont._

Opening the piece of paper she read the address for the fourth time, again folding it in half as she stared up at the building. This wasn't the kind of place she thought a young, almighty conqueror would be living. It looked too… normal. Making her way to his front door, she looked at the brass numbers embedded into it as if they would give a clue to his true identity, but again she found no meaning. Knocking lightly, she supposed she had the wrong address until she saw the very same face open up the door, much more vivid and brightly lit than the previous night as the light pouring in through the double set windows behind him framed his features.

"See, I knew you were a smart girl," he commented.

Stepping back, he indicated for her to come inside. Hesitating, she looked him over twice before she did so. Light streamed into the room from every single pane, almost blinding in its intensity. She could see the man had a taste for old style antiques – everything was wooden, polished up, intricately carved in styles of long ago, from the light bone coloured cabinets with glass doors and what must be thousands of books, to the darker edged coffee table and coat rack.

"Not what you expected?" he questioned, making his way to the kitchen bench that divided the rooms.

"I don't know," Bianca said, thinking it over as she studied the room. "If you were a money hungry beast I'd expect a lot more Midas, unless you're the Robin Hood type, but then you'd be living in a tree."

Amused, he returned to the doorway, folding his arms as he leant on the frame and looked in on her, interested in her view of his living area.

"How about the type looking for a little justice in this world?" he asked.

"Then I'd ask where your superhero costume is," she said with a nod, her eyes trailing down his body.

"Dry-cleaning," he suggested, his tone serious enough that for a second she almost believed him, enough to throw her off her guard. Quickly she turned her head.

"So what does this job require?" she asked, speedily returning to business matters. "What do I get for it?"

"I'm not promising you overly-exaggerated funds," he started.

Hearing a knock at the door, his eyes flicked towards it. Pushing himself away from the door frame and past her he said: "Excuse me."

Raising an eyebrow, she turned cautiously and watched him, ensuring this just wasn't some kind of mild distraction and that she'd actually walked into a trap.

"I don't understand why you insist upon searching my apartment," Wyatt said, allowing the man to step inside. "I doubt you'll find anything of interest to yourself."

"We heard you were with a woman last night. Brought her home."

"Oh really?" Wyatt questioned, lifting his brow. "That's a curious little tale. Who provided you with the knowledge? I can assure you there's no truth in it."

"Jackman," the man answered.

Bianca craned her neck to see outside the doorway, spotting a somewhat familiar looking man talking to Wyatt in the hallway. As they headed towards her, she saw the new arrival running a hand through his greasy hair, his shirt riding up to reveal the edge of the birthmark on his forearm. She froze.

"Ah, little Jackman," Wyatt said mockingly. "Lacking the height and the favour of the women. I don't suppose he was acting out of jealousy, do you?"

The Phoenix didn't answer, instead looking around, his eyes falling on Bianca. She felt trapped, played and caught out. She waited for the change on his face, for the shock or the glee at seeing her stand there, but his expression was unchanging. She had no idea whether that was a facet that came with being an assassin, she had started taking on that kind of expression herself. She didn't care about anyone because nobody cared about her. Everyone was just in it for themselves.

"So where is she?" he asked.

Startled and confused, Bianca looked between him and Wyatt. He was staring straight at her, how could he not see her?

"Where is whom?"

"The girl. The Phoenix."

Walking around him, Wyatt looked about the room as if he'd only just come home and found something looked out of place, acting mystified that he couldn't find anything wrong. Bianca became concerned, worried that she'd become invisible until she caught him winking at her.

"Not here, obviously," Wyatt said.

"I kind of figured that one out myself," the Phoenix retorted.

"This may come as a surprise to you, but I don't keep women as prizes. You can search high and low but you won't find evidence to support your theory. If you're that desperate to find a woman, I think you'll find the ones you prefer are three blocks down in The Palace." Reaching into his back pocket, Wyatt pulled out a few stray coins, dropping them into the man's hand. "Here's a donation to your licentious efforts. Enjoy yourself."

Watching as the man stuffed the money into his pocket, Wyatt held his hand out towards the front door, giving the Phoenix no choice but to leave. Bianca waited for the door to close behind him before she moved or spoke, afraid she would break whatever kind of magic he'd cast to make her visible only to him. Taking a step forward as Wyatt re-entered the room, she looked at him quizzically.

"How did you do that?" she asked.

"Do what?" Wyatt returned.

"Make him not see me."

"Simple whitelighter trick. I just cloaked you."

"You're a whitelighter?"

"Amongst other things. I also make a mean cocktail. Care to try one?"

Slowly she shook her head, turning again to face the bookcase as she analysed what had just happened in her head. Even though she was still wary and suspicious of him, this guy seemed genuine; of the good variety if he really was a whitelighter as he said, and there was always the added bonus that he would keep her invisible from the Phoenix. Looking back towards him she wondered if it was plausible that he could help her fake her own death and never have trouble with them again.

"So what do I have to do?" she asked finally. "What do you need me for?"

"I don't require you for anything, only added ammunition," Wyatt said, taking a seat in one of the armchairs and lazily sitting back with glass in hand.

"Ammunition?" Bianca repeated questioningly. "From what you were telling me, I thought you were the most powerful being on this planet."

Smiling, Wyatt placed his glass down on the end table next to the chairs, his eyes turning back to her full of consideration.

"Maybe so; but my power bears no control." Clasping his hands together, he leant forwards towards her. "Control, in this day and age, belongs to those conniving fat men dressed in Armani suits who hide away in their boardrooms. The accumulation of their corporations joining together to form a conglomerate empire has brought the poor to their knees and only the rich can survive. Aren't you tired of the way the world works now? Do you not hate having to bow to the demands of the greedy just to get by?"

Bianca bit her lip, instantly thinking of the events across the past week, and the injuries sustained from it. He was right. Why was she forcing herself to live this way? And here he was, somehow able to read her thoughts and feelings, in total agreement with them, and offering her a way out.

"What do we do first?" she asked.

"First we get you settled. Have you got somewhere to stay?"

Quickly she looked away, her mind instantly concluding that he was implying she stay there. Every bad thought and memory rushed to the surface as her inner voice screamed at her that this was Michael all over again, that she was forever going to be caught in the same vicious circle with no end. Putting on a brave face, trying to ignore her thoughts, she looked back to him.

"I've got temporary accommodation, but it won't be for much longer."

"Would you like something a little more permanent?"

Moving her head as her thoughts began to echo louder, she swallowed the lump that was rising in her throat. She couldn't do all this again, she wouldn't. Wyatt cocked his head as he studied her; pondering over the difficulty she was having answering such simple questions.

"Depends where it is," Bianca finally answered.

"South Beach. I can show you if you like."

He watched her for a few minutes waiting for an answer; one Bianca could not bring herself to give. Holding his hand out towards her as added incentive, he noted she simply kept an eye on his movements, nothing more. Turning his outstretched hand, he quickly waved it backwards, orbing the both of them to another apartment – this one in a classic Art Deco style.

"Something I acquired from previous conquests," he explained as Bianca looked around. "Has a spectacular view of the bridge just over there."

Bianca looked back to him, watching as he nodded his head towards the window. Taking a step or two towards it, she cautiously glanced back at him but he remained unmoving. The glass was clean, the apartment high, and as she peeked out the window, her hands on the sill, she saw the Bay Bridge standing in all its glory only a short stretch from where they were. She couldn't believe how close she was to the bridge, it almost looked as if she were right on top of it. She'd spent her whole life in this town and never once had she had a chance to be so near to the very road that could carry her out of here. The corner of her lips curving slightly into a smile, her main sense switched from sight to sound as she heard Wyatt coming up behind her.

"I trust you're pleased," Wyatt said.

Trying to contain how impressed she was with the whole situation, the splendour of the view and how exquisite the apartment itself was, she forced herself back into her stony composure and looked over her shoulder at him.

"I've seen better, but I can make do with this," she said, thinking the only place she'd ever been that could anywhere near match this was Michael's, and his was right in the centre of the city, nowhere near the bridge.

"Good. Wouldn't want you staying at my place," Wyatt said conceitedly, making his way back through the living room. Bianca spun around, entirely confused, watching as he casually picked up the book laying on the end table and leafed through it. "I wouldn't want you to feel like you're imposing. It's a much fairer idea to give you your own space, your own time to work out your personal issues whilst we get down to the business at hand." Lifting his head, he looked towards her. "You and me, Bianca. We can be a united force against the evils of this world. What do you say?"

"I'd say treat me with a little respect and I might concede."

"A little respect?" Wyatt scoffed. "I have the utmost respect for you, Bianca, or did you not understand what I just did?" Bianca tilted her head, nodding slightly that she did as Wyatt continued, placing the book back where he'd retrieved it from. "To walk away from everything that you have ever known, to continue on at your own peril without falling apart, that requires courage. Courage and strength, of which you have both. Only that kind of bravery is strong enough to do this."

She tried not to appear impressed with the compliment. The words seemed to come so smoothly, so effortlessly with him. He was incredibly convincing. It was hard not to believe every word he was saying.

"Then I will help you," she said simply. Glancing around she realised that the place was fully furnished; everything she could ever need was already here. Her gaze turned back to him. "You want me to stay here from now?"

"If you'd prefer here over your current accommodation, I don't have any problems with that," Wyatt said. Bianca nodded. Moving forward he held his fist out towards her. In a smooth magician-like move, he opened his hand finger by finger, the keys dropping from his palm to hang from his fingers over her open palm. Gently he lowered the keys into her hand. "Would you like some assistance moving your belongings?"

She gave him a look that read he had offended her. Even if it was only a friendly gesture, she had become so acquainted to Michael's double-meanings and his berating that if it was at all possible to interpret a comment in a negative way her mind instantly did so.

"I think I can handle it," she said sarcastically.

Wyatt smirked in response, not at all how she had expected him to react. He wasn't threatened by her, not by anyone seemingly.

"Okay," he said, bowing his head slightly in farewell. "Perhaps I will see you again by the end of the week. If you need anything, just call."

Bianca waited a moment, looking at him questioningly when he made no move to write down any contact details or inform her where they were if he had done so previously.

"A number?" she urged.

"Just my name will do," Wyatt said. Again she looked at him with confusion. "Call it aloud. I will come."

Before she could respond any further, she watched as his figure dematerialised in front of her, the orbs rising up through the air and drifting away. Giving herself her own guided tour of the apartment, she sighed with relief when she saw the plush queen sized bed in the bedroom. Crawling onto it, she laid her head in the pillows, pulling one up to her chest and holding it tightly. The bed was just as comfortable as it looked. Certainly better than anything she'd slept in for a very long time. Rolling onto her back, she turned her head to the side and looked out the window. Even from here she could see the silver outline of the bridge. She closed her eyes and breathed in the freshness of the air, flooding her lungs with aromas of pine and lavender scents, the muskiness and general foul smells she had become accustomed to not even rating on the radar. Opening her eyes again she realised that she still had to collect her few belongings from the motel room before she fell asleep here and forgot about them entirely. She also wondered if perhaps they would refund her part of the money since she wasn't going to stay there anymore. Wyatt had been kind enough to give her an apartment, but she didn't think he would be so forthcoming when it came to food and other supplies she would need.

* * *

"Just what we need," Wyatt announced, stopping in front of the museum building.

"What?" Bianca followed.

"Weaponry."

His eyes were alight with desire as he looked at the plain stone building. Racing like an excited child up the stairs, Bianca hurried after him until he stopped by the door, turning quickly towards her and placing a finger over his lips.

"We must be quiet," he warned in a low voice.

Bianca stared at him, baffled, he was the one behaving like a child and yet he acted as if his behaviour easily carried over to her as well.

"Are we walking in or breaking in?" Bianca whispered quickly.

"What does it look like?" Wyatt asked, casually waving his hand towards the darkening sky. "I have yet to meet someone stupid enough to attack a public venue in broad daylight."

"It was just a question," Bianca said defensively.

"Go. You first," Wyatt instructed.

Sighing, Bianca shimmered through to the other side of the closed door, walking into the main foyer. There was still someone working by the desk. Looking up, he shook his head.

"Joe, you left the front door open again!" he shouted out the back. Turning back to Bianca he gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry ma'am, but you'll have to leave. The museum is closing. You can come back tomorrow if you like - we're open from nine am."

Bianca looked him over slowly, realising she'd put herself in an odd predicament, and that she should have been more cautious instead of blatantly following Wyatt's orders. He wasn't a Phoenix. He approached things in a different way, ways that didn't include days of researching, stalking and careful planning. He was a lot more spontaneous, and of course overconfident in his own abilities. Glancing back towards the door she saw that he had disappeared completely. He wasn't in the same room with her, maybe he had taken off. Or she was serving as a distraction.

"Honestly, I'm not quite sure why I ended up here," she said. Walking towards the counter, she placed her hands on the edge and lent forward as if she was keenly interested. "What's your latest exhibit?"

"Myths and Legends. It'll cost you a little more to see, but it's well worth it."

Bianca smiled gratefully, turning and walking away from him back towards the door. She wondered if that was where Wyatt had been aiming to go. Passing by the small café she saw to her left the entryway to the new exhibit. As if he knew she was looking for him, Wyatt stepped from behind the wall and waved for her to come over to him. Shaking her head, she signalled that there were still people behind her. Smirking, he bravely stepped out from where he was, softly pushing aside the chairs as he passed through the café, grabbing her arm and pulling her back with him. Safely back in his original hiding spot, he let her go and turned to face her.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "They're going to follow us."

"Not if they can't see us. You keep forgetting I have the power to do that."

Bianca rolled her eyes away, sighing with annoyance as she set her jaw. Did he have to be so egotistical about it? She'd only known him for a few days and yet he expected her to know him completely. A few days was only enough to track movements and routines, not to discover the dealings of the entire person.

"So what are we doing here exactly?" she asked.

"Reclaiming something that is rightfully mine."

Perplexed, she looked back towards him. "Yours? Unless you were a few hundred years old, I don't expect they'd have anything that belonged to you."

"It does. And it's very important. Follow me," he instructed, indicating with his fingers for her to tag along. Stepping forward until she was meeting his stride, she glanced over to him as he steadfastly headed towards the new exhibit. "There's something I haven't told you yet. Part of the reason I'm doing this is my past."

"You're going to tell me you're older than you look?"

"No," he retorted. The seriousness in his voice instantly caught Bianca's attention, but it was more than that. It was the hurt and the anger that resided underneath it. She saw him swallow hard, looking up to the ceiling as he slowed his pace, as if revealing this now was a burdening weight he could not lift. "Four years ago I had everything taken from me. My family, my possessions –"

"Your mother," Bianca interjected softly. Now she remembered - she remembered the poem from the classifieds, she remembered how it had spurred her on to read about the Charmed Ones. Wyatt looked at her curiously, closing his eyes and turning his head away as the memory came flooding back to him.

_Wyatt sat with his head bowed and hands clasped in his lap, listening to the sobbing of the people around him. Lifting his eyes again to the wooden box sitting before him, he saw another two elderly ladies placing a bouquet of red and white flowers on the lid, one comforting the other as she burst into tears at the placement. His gaze following them back to their seats, he turned his attention back to the coffin, hurriedly closing his eyes and lowering his head again. He couldn't bear to look at the object, to be reminded of what he had not and could not do. Without looking at anyone, he pushed himself up from the pew, making his way down the aisle and towards the exit._

"_Wyatt, where are you going?"_

_Looking at the hand securely pressed against his arm, preventing him from walking any further, his eyes followed the length until he reached the face before him._

"_I have free will. I can leave if I like," he sourly replied._

"_You're not leaving," Leo said sternly, his eyes fixed on his eldest son's stolid composure._

"_Well I'm certainly not staying for two hours to stare at defeat."_

_Leo studied him for a moment, his gaze drifting to the coffin at the end of the aisle before returning to his son. Something told him he was talking about more than just Piper. _

"_We lost someone very important to this world. I would think you would have enough decency to stay and see this through, or do you just not care at all, Wyatt?"_

_Wyatt looked away quickly, tears burning behind his eyes. He didn't want to cry, didn't want to be another face in the crowd who grieved for a day and then forgot all about it. No, this was going to stay with him, to remind him every single day for the rest of his life that this was his fault. Braving a look back towards his father, he spoke aloud the only questions sitting in his mind, the ones that would not go away, and although he did not expect an answer he knew they still had to be voiced._

"_Why couldn't I fix this? Why wouldn't she let me heal her? I did it before. Why did she pass over without even saying goodbye?"_

"_Wyatt," Leo said gently, "she… we didn't want to traumatise you."_

"_And you think this is a solution?" he cried angrily, waving his hand back towards the coffin. "How is that any more traumatising than this? How is that considered worse than watching the person you loved more than anyone else in the world lying breathless and unmoving before you?"_

"_Wy—" Leo started, but Wyatt cut him off, throwing up his hands._

"_No! I don't want to hear anymore of your 'it's all for your protection' bullshit! What about her? Where was her protection? I couldn't even be there to help her. I was all she had and I wasn't there."_

"_Son, it's not your fault," Leo said softly. "It was just her time to go."_

_The tears finally falling down Wyatt's face, Leo held out his arms and pulled his son in towards him, Wyatt gripping onto his father tightly as he dropped his chin to his shoulder, closing his eyes as he tried to fight away the tears that wouldn't stop, the ones he was almost afraid would wash away the memories of everything that had happened if he let them loose._

"Yes, my mother," Wyatt answered, opening his eyes to find that they had both stopped in the hallway. The fleeting look of sympathy and familiarity left Bianca's face. She bit her lip, stepping out of his way and again back in the direction they had been heading. "These empires that have been constructed, it's longer than either you or I have been around. It has been a process slowly decaying the world for decades. When they set their sights on San Francisco, I spent most of my life watching the world as I knew it disappearing before me. People became distant, hostile. Small businesses closed down, their homely shops flattened to make way for skyscrapers and shoebox size apartments. Everyone turned against their own kind in favour of the larger companies whose names were plastered everywhere. When the Hilton's decided to open up their own massively popular chain of nightclubs, starting firstly in our beloved city, my mother's business began to suffer. It was the only income we had in our family, my father unable to return to the occupation he had retired from many years ago. So trying to keep the club open, to keep food on the table and her children both happy and healthy, my mother was forced to mortgage the house to cover the debts her business was incurring. With her death, everything came to an untimely end. They took the club, the house, repossessed everything they could get their hands on inside. And while my father pleaded they at least leave the attic alone, I removed the one thing that could expose us all, the one thing that was rightfully mine and the only connection to everything I knew and my family's history in itself. I keep that under lock and key, but now I have the power I want everything back, I want what was mine and my family's."

"So we're starting here," Bianca said absently. "You're turning me into a thief."

"It's not thieving if it was already yours," Wyatt insisted. "Besides, I'm sure you've done worse."

Swallowing, Bianca knew he was right. "What are we taking?"

"That," Wyatt said, pointing to a tall glass box in the centre of the room. Inside was a giant stone covered in parts with green moss, the handle of a sword and part of its blade jutting from the side.

"You have to be kidding me," Bianca said, staring at it, reading the inscription on the stand nearby as she moved towards it. Peering around the glass at Wyatt who was examining the case on the other side she continued: "You really have lost your mind. You're not King Arthur. I sure as hell am not Lancelot."

"Shh," Wyatt said harshly, annoyed with her sudden rambling. "Step out of the way."

Giving him one last look, Bianca headed away from the case and began to look around at the other exhibits. Wyatt took a few steps back, his eyes locked on the case, raising his hand as he generated an energy ball and threw it forwards. It stopped in the air, halfway between him and the case. Glancing up he saw a security guard had suddenly appeared, his hands raised in the air. Cautiously Wyatt lifted his arms, one palm flat facing the security guard on his right, the other facing Bianca on his left. She understood instantly that he didn't want her to move, and acted as if she'd been frozen. Once Wyatt was certain she had got the message, he rotated his arm around to join the other, his thumbs brushing against each other as he inspected the guard.

"I'm not here to hurt you. I just came to take back what belongs to me."

"Everything in this room belongs to the museum," the guard said.

"You're a witch. You know that's a lie. There are certain items in this room that have been stolen from various magical creatures. This sword over here is mine. Give it to me and I'll leave quietly."

"I'm not giving anything to you. I'd lose my job!" the guard protested.

"Well then I'll just have to take it," Wyatt suggested, a twinkle in his eye.

"No you won't," the guard challenged, stepping forward. "I've already stopped any attempt you've made."

Lowering his hands, Wyatt tilted his head to the side. His eyes switching from the sword to the guard, giving a secondary glance back to Bianca to make sure she hadn't moved yet, he decided he'd try to rationalise with him.

"You know the power that these items contain. Wouldn't you like to possess one of them? Or even all of them? Blame me for taking them if you like; I have no problem dealing with the powers that be. I don't hate authority, authority hates me."

"I don't know," the guard said, seemingly giving it some consideration.

"Think about it. All of this, all of this could be yours," Wyatt coaxed. He saw the guard's expression harden and knew it wasn't working; the man valued his job more than his life. He lifted a hand towards Bianca. "Just give me what I want and no-one gets hurt. You don't want to be responsible for that innocent girl losing her life, do you?"

As he saw the guard lower his head and begin to charge him, Wyatt flicked his fingers and blew Bianca up. To the guard it appeared he had killed her. He stopped short, staring open-mouthed at Wyatt, not seeing the small particles of ash drift from the room to the hallway where Bianca reformed.

"Dammit, I hate when someone does that to me without warning," Bianca grumbled, brushing her hand down her arm as she looked back out to the two men.

"Now unlock the case," Wyatt said calmly, turning the guard towards the case, gripping his shoulder firmly as he circled the energy ball and stepped in-between it and the glass case.

The guard ran the holographic key over the lock, Wyatt's eyes lighting up once again as he watched the case unfold and lower itself into the floor. Stepping to the side, he positioned himself behind the sword, brushing his hand affectionately over the handle. He lifted his head to look at the frightened guard again.

"Thanks," he said.

Within seconds the room unfroze, the energy ball ploughing into the back of the guard's head, his whole body illuminating before disappearing completely. As if he was either oblivious or had expected such to happen, Wyatt ignored what was happening on his left as he placed his foot against the rock, gripping the handle into his hands and yanking it from the stone.

"Don't you have any morals?" Bianca yelled as she re-entered the room, witnessing everything that had just happened. "You just killed an innocent man, and me."

"He wasn't 'just' a man, Bianca. He was a witch." Turning the sword in his hand, his gaze travelled up and down the blade before moving over to hers. "And he was in my way. Besides, do you really think I would have known five minutes ago when I threw that thing that he would just 'happen' to be standing in front of it? No. And don't attempt to quarrel with me about killing you, I only blew you up. You're a Phoenix, I knew you'd reform. That's what you do."

"So I'm bait now?"

"I'm not stopping you from doing what you do best. It was just a handy way to convince him to help me."

"Well next time you want to try that would you give me a little warning first?"

"Sure. But don't be surprised if someone really does kill you in the meantime." He held his hand out towards her. "I suggest we go before the alarm gives us away."

Reaching out to him she grasped his hand into hers roughly, feeling herself piece apart in a slightly different fashion as he orbed them both back to his apartment, Excalibur firmly clasped in his other hand.


	17. Chapter 17

**2022** _cont._

Lifting her leg, Bianca placed her foot squarely in the demon's abdomen, tugging its arm violently as she pulled back, hearing a satisfying crack as the bone popped from the socket, a squeal of pain erupting from its lips.

"I told you if you didn't give it to me, I wouldn't play nice," Bianca scolded. "Stop your whining; you asked for it."

Spinning herself in towards the demon, she positioned her hip against its body and threw it over her shoulder, another whimper sounding as it landed hard on the ground. Steadying herself, she straightened again, looking down coldly on the demon before her. Cocking her head to the side, she placed her hands on her hips as she walked slowly around it, keeping her eyes fixated on the same position the whole time.

"Now, what else can I do to show you what a bad decision you made by not co-operating?" she mused aloud. The demon made a move to get up and quickly Bianca leant forward, holding her palm flat over the top of it. "Uh, uh, uh, did I tell you to get up?"

Lifting herself back up slowly, she delivered a swift kick to the base of the demon's chin, knocking its head back, and with it the body fell back to the ground.

"Much better. Now where is it?" she queried.

The demon shook its head. Bianca pursed her lips, anger and irritation taking over her being. Swiftly grabbing its shirt as she crouched down, she brought her face closer to the demon's.

"Do you _want_ to be in any more pain than you are?" she yelled.

"O-over there," the demon stammered. "Behind the loose rock in the w-wall, just left of the alter."

Glancing up to where the demon indicated, more than a few strides into what could almost be deemed a separate room in the dank cave, Bianca's eyes trailed back to the demon she held fast in front of her. Lifting her chin, she looked down on the demon in her grip with defiant power.

"Thanks," she said, releasing her fingers quickly, the demon's body falling back to the ground with a thump as she climbed to her feet.

Walking into the section the demon had indicated, Bianca circled the alter and ran her hand along the grey edges of the stone wall. Stopping before a section just off to the left, she faced the stone and dragged her left hand towards her right, ensuring she had felt out the correct stone, digging her fingers around it and shifting it forward, burrowing her fingers further back as she concentrated and tugged towards herself again. Finally pulling the stone free, she tossed it to the right of her feet, stooping a little to see inside the hole she'd just made.

"Why didn't I just blow that up?" she mused, thinking about the heavy stone she'd just removed and how an energy ball might have been the simple way of doing this.

Reaching into the hole, her arm sinking almost the full length inside, her hand fastened around a dark purple bag, soft to the touch as if it was made of velvet. Pulling it back, the cord intertwining in her fingers as she tried not to scrape her skin on the rock's surface, she yanked it from the opening and held it up before her. Using her free hand she briskly unfastened the cord and opened up the bag, looking inside to see that it indeed contained the very thing she was looking for. Hearing the clatter of the pointer against the wooden board as the bag moved, she dipped her hand in and pulled the spirit board halfway up out of the bag. It looked just like any other on the front, but the back had a special inscription to the three sisters carved into it. _The Power of Three will set you free_. They were all the words Bianca needed to read to know it was the right board. Dropping the spirit board back into the bag, she pulled tightly on the cord and fastened it securely around the neck of the bag.

"Now that's done…" she started.

Lifting her gaze towards the makeshift archway she had just walked through, she looked over the demon still lying on the ground. Satisfied that it wasn't going to give chase, she shimmered out. Reappearing in Wyatt's apartment, she looked around and saw he was nowhere to be seen. Walking towards his bedroom, she opened the door with a slight push from her palm, glancing to the left as she heard water running. Placing the bag down on the cushion of the sole overstuffed armchair in his room, she pushed aside the heavy green drapes to peer out the window momentarily before her eyes drifted to the large polished cabinet that stood proudly against one of the walls. No doubt his newly acquired sword took pride of place over his bed now, but all his former weapons and treasures lay inside this cabinet where he could easily access them yet also display them in their own threatening manner.

Bianca took a few steps towards the cabinet, looking over the weaponry with the kind of remarkable fascination that only one who would use them would show. Her eyes trailed down to the books slotted together in a neat row at the base, settling on one that was in a section all of its own, its hardbound cover resting comfortably against the solid oak cabinet wall. Glancing quickly at the closed door of the en suite, Bianca crouched down to take a closer look, her hand working the latch loose and opening up the glass door as she reached inside to pull out the aged tome. Holding it flat in her palm, she looked over the green cover – plain except for the single triquetra symbol positioned in the middle. Glancing up at the closed bathroom door again, the water still echoing through the walls, Bianca felt safe enough to be able to look through this book without being caught. Seating herself on the bed, she flipped open the cover, gently lifting the weather-beaten page to reveal the text inside. It was an innate description of the history of Melinda Warren and the Charmed Ones genealogy. Flipping through the pages she saw spells; descriptions and illustrations of various demons, ghosts, and otherworldly creatures – not much different from the Grimoire if she remembered correctly. But the thing she found most interesting lay towards the back of the book. It was a handwritten note titled: _Tips For Future Whitelighters_. Underneath the heading it was addressed: _To my sons, Wyatt and Chris_. Fumbling her brow, Bianca read further, continuing all the way to the bottom as she read: _Know that love is the key to your healing hands. Understand that whatever happens in the future, there is good inside of you_.

She did not hear the door open. She did not see Wyatt come out and find her reading the book, the one prized possession he owned, the only thing he had saved from the manor, the one thing he kept under lock and key so that nobody could touch it. Quickly he grabbed hold of the back cover and flipped it closed. Bianca hastily pushed herself from the bed, backing up to the other side of the room, her eyes firmly locked on Wyatt standing there only in a towel, watching and waiting for him to do something. Slowly he sat down on the bed, keeping his eyes on her as well. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, her breathing erratic as she bawled her hands into fists, seemingly preparing to defend herself from whatever attack she was expecting to receive.

"You weren't supposed to be reading this," Wyatt said diplomatically.

Bianca continued to stare at him, feeling like he could see right through her, that he could sense she was scared, that he knew all about how Michael liked to close books on her in search of something else. She couldn't show him weakness, Phoenix's didn't do that, and she knew if she did she would fall into another world of lies and betrayal. But here he was sitting before her anyway, defiant, already holding things back from her, and the only way she could cover up her vulnerability was to mask it with anger.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she snapped.

"I told you…" Wyatt began, looking down at the book in his hands.

"You didn't! You're holding things back from me," Bianca argued before he even had a chance to finish his sentence.

"Like what?" he shot back, looking up at her.

"Like Chris. Who's Chris?"

"Why do you want to know?" Wyatt asked, his tone both arrogant and annoyed as his expression darkened.

Chewing her lip, Bianca didn't want to admit to what she'd just been doing, not when she could clearly see he was irritated by it, even more so by her questioning but she had to do so or else he would expose everything that she'd quashed over the past few years. She was probably going to serve up more ammunition for him to punish her, to get rid of her, but she'd come too far now to deny having seen anything.

"He was in the book," she said.

"A lot of people are in the book," Wyatt retaliated, oblivious to what she had been reading, obviously searching for something behind the question of his identity that she didn't fully understand.

"Not with personal notes addressed to them they aren't. You're keeping things from me," she said. Feeling her cover beginning to slide, she quickly looked away from him. "I can't believe you're lying to me."

"I'm not keeping anything from you," Wyatt disagreed. "And I'm certainly not lying."

Bianca shifted her gaze back to look at him. "You told me you lost your family."

"I did. My father took off, and my brother and I are not exactly on the best of terms. In their own ways they have abandoned me; therefore they all are lost to me."

For a moment Bianca felt a pang of guilt at bringing all this up. To avoid her own dark past, she was forcing him to delve into his. This was hardly a conversation to be having with him when he was sitting there only in a towel. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, trying to think a way out of this conversation, trying to stop it before it went too far.

"Why are you being so suspicious?" Wyatt inquired. It was the only thing he needed to ask to step over that line into her personal boundary. Six simple words that opened up old wounds that wanted to let everything out.

"I don't like being deceived," Bianca said straightforwardly, hoping it was enough of an explanation, hoping that he'd now let her be.

"Is that why you left? The Phoenix did that to you?" Wyatt questioned further. As if to add less personal attachment to the questions, he focused his attention away from her - standing and adjusting his towel as he picked up the book, walking back over to the cabinet as he placed it back where she had taken it from.

"Everybody did," Bianca answered softly, turning towards the window as he looked towards her. She didn't want him to see anymore. She didn't want him to see that he had gotten to her. Feeling a hand wrap around her upper arm, almost encompassing her shoulder, she shook him off violently, her hand flying back defensively to hit him as she turned. "Don't touch me!"

"Bianca, what did they do?" Wyatt asked, his voice passive. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Don't," she said, shaking her head, willing herself not to break down but to go back to the cold unfeeling state she'd been in for so long. Wyatt lowered his head, his eyebrows lifting at the same time inquisitively, but he didn't say anymore for he could see now he had broken down her defence. "They made me kill."

"Ha, you do that now," Wyatt said, laughing the excuse away. Seeing her fasten her eyes closed he knew she wasn't giving the whole story away. "Nothing's changed there. I know that's not it. There's something more isn't there?"

Bianca opened her eyes, staring at him. She didn't answer him, she gave no indication whatsoever that he was right, but she was sure he could still read it in her eyes. Focusing on steadying her breathing, quieting her heart, making her eyes only shine not spill over with tears she thought she'd never be able to cry, she managed to get herself under control as she watched him grow more uncertain about his perceptions on her behaviour. His gaze shifting away from her in thought, he finally lifted his eyes back towards her with a renewed strength and a fresh approach.

"If you're going to trust anyone, Bianca, trust me," he said.

She believed him. Despite whatever reaction he'd had, despite whatever thought or feeling or comparison she had dredged up in connection to her past, she could see that they shared one thing – they shared the hurt of losing someone that they'd loved dearly, and the deception of the people who took everything away from them. But she couldn't tell him everything. She couldn't tell him that for every second she had known him she had compared him to Michael, because no matter what she was thinking she feared that if she let him know that, then he would turn out to be Michael.

"Someone took advantage of me…" she said slowly, finally divulging the reason she was hiding, the one that had initiated her escape. "Because he knew he could."

Trying to clarify what she meant in answers all too cryptic, Wyatt questioned. "In what way?"

"In every way," Bianca responded darkly, her eyes full of hate. The indifference she thought she had lost rushing back in a flood and covering everything she thought she had left open to him.

"It's interesting," Wyatt began, seemingly undeterred by her composure although fully aware she was at such a height of emotion that she was like a guard dog about to attack. Slowly he turned away, heading over to his chest of drawers. "That despite all the presupposition of the Phoenix's great assassin heritage, the marvel of them being able to rise from the ashes would bring such Neanderthal ideals with it into how they treat one another." Removing a few items of clothing from the drawer, he tossed them back on the bed as he looked over to her. "That's hardly a civilised way of living."

Bianca felt herself beginning to calm down as she watched him, his words easing her mind into the belief that he thought it was morally wrong as well.

"It's not going to be that way again," she said quietly, reassuring herself that she knew what she was doing, that she wasn't going to let him hurt her.

Wyatt's gaze crossed from her to the purple bag sitting in the armchair, his lips curving into a small smile. He didn't press any more on the subject instead focusing on the task he had assigned her, one she had completed competently and successfully.

"I appreciate your help in this - makes us one step closer to fulfilling a purpose. But," he glanced down at his clothes and then coyly back up to her, "if you don't mind."

Bianca nodded, shimmering back to her apartment and seating herself on the couch, resting her head in her hands as she tried to analyse everything that had just happened. She'd just let out almost her entire past to him, and she wasn't even sure how she had done it. For something that had only started with her prying into his life, she'd uncovered very little but he had found out a great deal about her. And she wasn't about to let him deceive her as so many others had.

* * *

Wyatt's collection soon outgrew his small apartment. He began to store things – larger and less personal items – in the spare rooms of Bianca's apartment. Not that she minded, the clutter made the place feel less empty, and now she felt as if having things that belonged to him was a step up in their partnership – she had something to bargain with in case he tried to forfeit the deal.

Bianca shimmered into Wyatt's apartment, glancing to the right as he orbed in beside her, a large chest bound securely in his arms.

"That proved to be slightly more difficult than I thought," Wyatt commented.

"I'm just glad you didn't want anything larger," Bianca said.

Wyatt tilted the chest back towards him so he could inspect the front, a green substance splattered across its face and sinking into the carvings of the square wooden box.

"If my family had been more organised, it might have been," Wyatt said, lowering the chest back into his hands to inspect the dusty lid. "I'm going to go clean this up."

Glancing at the TV, he lifted two fingers away from the chest and moved them slightly. The television screen blinked to life halfway through a local news program. Bianca stood and watched the telecast as Wyatt drifted to his bedroom, and probably to the en suite inside she presumed.

"Crime levels have hit an all-time high across San Francisco – thievery, murder, adultery – the San Franciscan Police Department are having difficulty keeping the numbers in their jails under control. Because of this businesses have started to resort to new measures of protection against what people have referred to as 'inhuman creatures' whose 'superhuman powers' have allowed their destructiveness to go unchallenged. A local inventor has come up with this device," the reporter said. Bianca's eyes shifted to the round device in the woman's hand. "Simply called a probe, it scans the DNA of located subjects and transmits back to the authorities the identities of criminals. It is currently being installed in all public places of interest, and in some large companies who feel threatened by the city's latest disturbances."

Bianca turned back to look at Wyatt as he wafted back through the door and stood at her side, his eyes fully focused on the television screen. Moving a little closer, he lowered himself to peer at the object in the woman's hand.

"They're going to try to catch us out with that little thing?" he said, smirking.

"You don't know how dangerous it could be," Bianca warned. "And I don't like the idea of being on someone's criminal register."

"I wouldn't worry," Wyatt said, shaking his head as he straightened. "The last method they employed to replace security cameras failed miserably. I don't see why this should be any different. I don't mind them finding out who we are, we're much more powerful than those small folk."

"It's not them I'm worried about," Bianca murmured.

"Come on," Wyatt encouraged. "Let's go show them we're not afraid of their simple devices."

"We're going out again?"

"Why not? There's more fun to be had elsewhere," he said joyously. Bianca looked at him disconcertedly. "Follow me."

It sounded more like an order than an invitation. Bianca lifted her head, her eyes watching as his orbs floated up and away. Reluctantly Bianca shimmered after him. She was already tired from every battle they'd encountered that morning, and still he wanted more. Reappearing next to him outside a large brick building she saw that wicked grin again appear on his face.

"Now for something grander," he said, rubbing his hands together.

"Grander?"

He looked at her with surprise. "You don't know the meaning of the word? Bigger, more valuable."

"Very funny," Bianca said sarcastically. She nodded towards the door. "What's in here?"

"The quintessential prize."

Before Bianca could inquire further, Wyatt strode forward and through the doorway. Turning her head to the side, she sighed heavily.

"I've got to make him work on his lack of preparation," she said absently.

Following him inside, she saw he bore no sign of patience this time. Whatever he had said upon entry, he had caught everyone's attention in the room, some people inching away as they looked at him strangely.

"I want it all!" he demanded.

Bianca stopped behind him, looking across the annoyed faces in the room, faces that quickly turned to fear as Wyatt used his powers to lift one man from his seat and throw him across the room, his body shattering the glass wall of the office behind him.

"We'll call the police!" one woman shouted at Wyatt before cowering behind her desk.

"Ha. What makes you think they'll come before blood is shed and lives are lost?" Wyatt asked rhetorically. He looked down at his open hand. "Excalibur!"

Gripping the handle of the sword as it solidified in his hand, he swung it before him, making a few graceful passes for show.

"Because there's one already here." A middle-aged man rose from behind another desk, his gun already drawn from its holster and aimed straight at Wyatt.

"Well that defeats the purpose," Wyatt said. "How am I to have any fun if the authorities are already here?"

"Put the sword down!" the officer shouted.

"Hmm, let me think about that," Wyatt mocked, stroking the stubble on his chin. "No."

The officer fired his weapon, Wyatt swiftly lifting hid sword to block the bullet. Another three escaping from the barrel, Wyatt orbed out before any of them could hit him, the small round objects passing through the light and embedding themselves into the wall and glass door behind him. Bianca stepped aside as the glass shattered to the ground. All around them people were gasping and pointing, completely in shock after seeing what had just occurred.

"It's okay, it's okay," the officer said, trying to calm them, one hand leaving the gun to try and still them over the panic.

As an extra show of his dominance, Wyatt rapidly thrust forward the sword into the body of the man closest to him, pulling it back just as quickly, his eyes still trained on the officer struggling to keep the peace.

"Your own kind are going to betray you," Wyatt commented, slightly amused at the arising chaos. "Pity that."

The officer's attention snapped back to Wyatt, glaring at him, steadying the gun on his figure. Several employees launched themselves towards Wyatt in an attempt to attack, serving as an additional distraction to aid the officer. Wyatt lifted his hand, tilting one way and then the other as he dispersed two energy balls to take two of them out. Lifting the sword with an arcing slice, he crossed the bodies of the three before him, watching with interest as they collapsed to the floor into pools of their own blood.

"I almost wish we could make shapes out of it," Wyatt said, tilting his head as the blood trail ran steadily towards his feet. He glanced over his shoulder at Bianca. "Are you planning on doing anything? I didn't bring you so you could spectate."

"And what does the almighty one suggest I do?" Bianca queried, knowing full well that he hadn't revealed to her any of his intentions for these people or this place.

"Deal with the problems," he said shortly.

Scanning the room she saw that most of the inhabitants didn't pose a threat, but one still did, his gun still aimed at Wyatt. Pushing off, she raced towards him, the words _Cop Killer_ pounding in her head along with the sound of her falling footsteps. Shimmering out mid-stride as his gun moved from Wyatt to her, she knew she had made him paranoid with her disappearance, counting on the fact that he would spin about frantically as he did searching for her. Reappearing just off to his side, she spun and delivered a swift kick to his arm, knocking it sideways, her heel connecting enough with the gun to knock it from his hands. Now unarmed, his next best defence was to grab for her, but she already counted on that as well. She barely gave him time to recover and make his move before she shimmered behind him, a warm reddish glow surrounding her hand as a sharpened dagger appeared there.

"Deadly weapons aren't meant to point at," she said, grabbing his shoulder to hold him steady as she thrust the dagger into his back. Leaning closer to him, she whispered vehemently: "Hurts to be here, doesn't it?"

Raising her hand as she sliced the wound open further, twisting it deeper as she felt the warmth of his blood begin to trail down the blade onto her skin, she tightened her grip on his shoulder as she yanked the dagger out again, pulling him back towards her at an angle as she drew the blade across his throat.

"Your service is terminated," she said, pushing him roughly to the ground.

Lifting her hand, the reddish light appeared again as she made the dagger once again disappear. It was perhaps the best thing about conjuring, that there was no need to clean up, you could just make something vanish instead. Her gaze lifted from her hand to Wyatt to inspect what he was doing. Wyatt had taken out a few more people, their slain bodies adorning the floor. Just like her, his skin and weapon of choice were stained with blood. Seeing him orb his way over to the corner, set on containing his next victim behind their desk, she stepped up onto the one before her to gain a better view. Glancing back towards her, his determination sank further into anger as he saw another woman had collected the officer's gun from the floor and was aiming it at Bianca.

"No!" he bellowed, swinging his hand up towards her, his telekinesis picking the woman up and throwing her aside as if she'd just been hit by a strong wind.

Bianca's attention finally caught hold of the woman as she fired the gun. Leaping forward she heard the bullet wiz by. Straightening once she hit the ground, she stared at Wyatt. She'd come so close to being hit, and he'd saved her. Quickly he looked away from her, again focusing his attention on the man in front of him. Lifting his hand he began to close his fist. She could hear the man spluttering and choking from where she was.

"Keys," Wyatt demanded. There came a jingling sound as the man fumbled around his waist for them. Wyatt, growing tired of the man's nervous agitation, reached down and snatched them from his belt. "What's the box number?"

The man shook his head, unable to talk as Wyatt kept up his strangling hold. Feeling it tighten, he frantically pointed to his throat until Wyatt eased the grip.

"Eight two nine. Box eight two nine."

"And the code?" Wyatt queried.

"I can't tell you that. Company policy," the man said, shaking his head. Wyatt tightened his grip again until the man nodded, wheezing out an "Okay, okay. Five seven nine six two five."

"Wyatt!" Bianca cried, but it was too late.

Amongst all the talking, probes had begun to infiltrate the scene, one stopping right behind Wyatt as it scanned him with its yellow-green light. His attention fully focused on obtaining the information he needed from the man in front of him, he did not notice its presence until Bianca's call of warning, and by that stage it was far too late for him to raise his deflective shield. Even so, he made a good attempt at it, only reaching the halfway point before a spider-like piece of metal shot forth from the probe and burrowed itself into his shoulder. His hand hitting the floor hard to stop him falling completely, he lifted himself to a crouching position, enough to see Bianca as he clutched his wounded shoulder. Bianca rushed forward, looking at him with concern.

"What did it do to you?" she asked,

"Nothing. Here," Wyatt said, handing the keys over to her. "Go find the box numbered eight two nine. You'll need to punch in the code to open it which is… five seven nine nine… no, _six_ two five."

Bianca looked at the keys unsurely in her hand. Glancing back to Wyatt she saw him nod with insistence in his eyes. Pulling his hand away from his shoulder as she turned, he conjured an energy ball into his palm and threw it at the offending probe, waving another one floating further away into the wall and feeling some kind of sweet revenge as it shattered into pieces onto the floor.

Bianca went to the back of the office, finding a large closed vault and smirking upon the 'minor' challenge. Placing her hand against the cold steel, she closed her eyes, shimmering across to the other side. Locks weren't going to keep her from entering something so large. To both sides of her lay an endless row of little grey boxes, all with black numbers etched onto white slips of paper pushed into little holes in the face, a digital scanner underneath each one with buttons to enter a numbered code. Looking up and down the rows, Bianca eventually found box 829. Quickly punching the code in, she smiled proudly as it beeped and she heard a click as it unlocked inside. Pulling it open, she found more keys… and a piece of paper. Looking around her surroundings again, double checking the face of the box, she knew that this is what they had come for. This was all Wyatt wanted. They had killed numerous amounts of people, including a police officer, for something so simple. Yanking out the contents she slammed the box closed, stalking angrily back out into the main room.

"We did all this for a piece of paper?" she shouted. "You had me kill a cop for a piece of paper? Your ultimate prize was just a fucking piece of paper?"

Waving it around in the air, she could see Wyatt's eyes locked on it, fear actually briefly flickering in them that she wouldn't give it over to him; that she was going to do something destructive with it and it would be lost forever.

"It's important. We're going to build on it," he said. His expression darkening, he looked back to the man on the floor, his gaze passing by the photographs on the man's desk. "Not a word about this. When the authorities come, you don't tell them what happened. Make up whatever you feel you need to. Rabid monkeys attacked you – see if I care. Just know that if you don't keep silent, I will come after you, and not only you, but your wife and children also. I have no problem killing you, and if you don't feel like agreeing right now, she has no problem cutting your tongue out."

Hastily the man nodded. Groggily Wyatt lifted himself up and stood unsteadily on his feet, his hand again securely covering his shoulder. Bianca looked him over curiously. They didn't know what they were dealing with, probes were new, and the fact that he had been shot meant he could have any number of things in him.

"Better get you back," she said, reaching out towards him and shimmering him back to his room in his apartment where she placed the keys and paper onto the side table.

Pulling him down onto the bed, she peered over his shoulder, grabbing his hand and tugging it away. Whatever that thing was, the entry wound wasn't pretty. His head drooping slightly, she lifted his chin with the tips of her fingers.

"Hey, you still conscious?" she asked.

"Barely," he responded.

"We have to get you something. Caraway, germander… the sage leaf variety… do you have any of those?" she questioned urgently.

"Yeah. The cupboard."

Dropping her hands away from his face, she could see he wasn't doing so well. He looked like he was about to drop off at any minute, and who knew what the probe bullet had done to his bloodstream. At least if she could find the germander, and if he was still conscious enough to drink it, then she would be able to restore his awareness and cleanse his bloodstream.

"Stay here. I'll make it up for you," she said.

"Not going anywhere," Wyatt responded slowly.

Hurrying out to the kitchen, she pulled open all the cupboard doors until she found where his herbs were kept; ransacking through them and almost breaking a few glass containers in her search. Finally finding what she was looking for, she pulled it out and slammed the cupboard door closed, making the tea as quickly as she could before heading back to the bedroom, thankful to find Wyatt still in the same state as she'd left him.

"Here, drink this," she said, sitting next to him and handing the cup over. "It's going to taste horrible, but it's probably the best thing to help you right now."

Taking the dark cup into his hands, she saw him slowly lift it to his lips and sip it. Watching his face, she saw that it was only once he'd ingested a good amount of the liquid that he noticed the bitter taste, his face screwing up slightly as he held it in his mouth before forcefully swallowing it down. Satisfied that he was going to finish the entire thing she moved onto her second task and scooted herself back across the bedspread, crawling behind him. Looking at the wound again, she sat back on her heels, her hands hesitant to touch him.

"Unless you want me to slice that off, you're going to have to remove your shirt," she said.

Placing the cup down on the side table, Wyatt wrestled his way out of his shirt without a thought, only a mere groan at the pain of moving his shoulder in the process. With great effort he tossed the shirt to the floor. Bianca moved herself closer to him, putting her hands around the wound, her touch a lot more gentler than what she normally inflicted on her victims.

"Looks like it's in fairly deep, but I guess it didn't hit anything if you're still walking around. Can you handle a little pain?" she asked.

"Your version of little and my version of little are probably two opposing conjectures," Wyatt said. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "But being as you think you have an idea about what you're doing, I'm not going to blast you for hurting me."

Double-checking that both his expression and his eyes gave her the go-ahead, Bianca conjured a small sharp object into her hand, halfway between forceps and tweezers it was the only thing she could think of to use. Pushing it into the wound, she stilled her hands as he cried out, growing quiet as he bit his lip and gripped the bed, doing whatever he could to combat it. Digging a little further, the metal tip finally connected to the metal bullet. She pulled it out using the same pathway she had to go in, noting as she looked at the remains that some kind of strange substance was on it – obviously whatever had been poisoning his system. Not wanting to leave him bleeding out, she stayed where she was and simply conjured a medical kit, discarding the bloodied bullet and metal retriever inside the case. Picking up a soft square cloth, she wiped the blood from his back. Next retrieving a needle and thread, she set to work on closing the wound. Wyatt flinched as she pushed the needle in. Quickly she grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

"Don't move," she warned. "This won't work properly otherwise, and if you move too much I might accidentally take your powers if I slip."

Wyatt remained silent for a moment as he stilled, feeling her fingers push the skin together then pull it tight as she wound the thread around. He'd noticed the slight lack of confidence in her voice, despite the choice of words which were meant to assure him she knew what she was doing.

"You've done this before?" he stated.

"On Michael. Plenty of times," she said, pulling the thread again as she worked steadily to close him up.

"Michael?" Wyatt repeated. Previous conversations coming back to him, he began to piece the puzzle together. "He's the one that played you, isn't he? The reason you're like this. The one you're so frightened of."

Bianca pulled tighter and he winced. She didn't answer him, but he could tell from her reaction that he was right.

"It's fixed now," Bianca said, pulling away as she finished up. "Don't try anything else."


	18. Chapter 18

**2023**

"Bianca, can you not do that?" Wyatt requested. "You're making it hard."

"I think you'll find you're the one making it hard," Bianca scoffed. "It's better this way."

"It's not right," Wyatt said. "It's not how it used to be."

"You can't be even a little creative?"

"Look, if I think it should be a little to the left, then it should."

"You're such a woman," Bianca sighed, shaking her head and moving slightly. "Any better?"

"Much."

"You know it would be easier on me if you helped, like maybe move it a little; or do you just like seeing me throw my back out?"

"It's quite a spectacle to see you strain yourself," Wyatt said calmly.

Bianca looked at him with annoyance. "Do it yourself."

Pushing herself away, Wyatt shrugged and waved his hand. The couch shifted towards her, almost into her but the skidding sound caught her attention and she shimmered away just in time. Reappearing near Wyatt, she lifted her hand and pointed forcefully at him.

"No running me over with furniture," she scolded.

Wyatt turned his head towards her, smirking, Bianca pulling her lips in tightly to keep from smiling with amusement back at him. A dark leather clad man flamed in across from her, the sound catching Wyatt's attention as his gaze shifted in the opposite direction.

"Sir, there's a disturbance down in the Underworld," he said.

"Well deal with it," Wyatt responded, lifting an eyebrow at the stupidity of the man.

"I can't, sir. It's…" the man trailed off, his gaze flicking cautiously over to Bianca before returning to Wyatt.

"Keep him occupied then" Wyatt remarked. "He doesn't have the power to destroy you."

"Very well, sir," the man agreed, bowing slightly before he flamed out.

"I don't see how we're going to get anything done with your commandos showing up every two minutes," Bianca commented.

"We're finished anyway," Wyatt said, dusting his hands as he looked back towards her.

"We are? What about—"

"It's done," Wyatt interrupted. Bianca settled back onto her heels. "Want me to show you around?"

Bianca gave a slight almost indiscernible shrug of her shoulders. "If you feel like illustrating how one little piece of paper means so much to you."

Waving his hand towards her, Wyatt orbed first Bianca and then himself up to the attic of the Halliwell manor. He looked more than comfortable in the room, surrounded in darkness, clutter pushed to the edges as the small tables and minor potions were neatly arranged in the centre. Bianca surveyed what she could in the dimly lit area.

"Looks like a bit of a mess," she remarked.

"This is how it was," Wyatt explained. "This manor means everything to me. It's my home, it's where I grew up, it's my family's heritage, it is the universal nexus of power."

"More than just a deed," Bianca mocked.

"Yes!" Wyatt snapped, insulted that she wasn't taking it seriously. "I want people to know where I've come from, what greatness was done here – don't you understand that? Don't you want people to have hope? To believe that they don't have to come from money to be able to achieve eminence?"

Bianca folded her arms, feeling slightly unsettled as she remembered the things she'd been given when she was younger, the Phoenix providing her and her mother with extravagant possessions bought using blood money. She didn't like it, and she hadn't kept any of it, the only things she owned now were a few items of clothing, and what Wyatt had given her as payment for helping him.

"I want people to believe that they don't have to submit to someone else's power," Bianca said, knowing she had trouble with that herself. Studying his face she could see he was passionate about this cause, everything that lay around her now, but the sole response she had given him had distracted him slightly as he eyed her closely, trying to work out in his mind the meaning behind her words. Quickly she looked away. "How are you going to 'spread the word' anyway?"

"I'm not, they're coming here," Wyatt stated. Bianca looked back to him with confusion. "I'm opening the place up. That's why I wanted everything to be perfect. I want people to see things as I saw them. I want people to recognise what I can do."

"Wyatt, you'll scare them! You've got your henchmen popping in and out of here every few seconds, then there's the risk of exposing magic, not to mention the fact that you're probably a wanted criminal by now."

"I'm not going to be here. I'm going to run it as a business – a museum – with real people working for me. Maybe a few demons as guards. We could even get some of those probe things just for old times sake."

"Five months ago, Wyatt. You remember what they did to you? You wouldn't be able to walk in here without them attacking you."

"Ever heard of reprogramming?" he asked casually, brushing past her as he headed towards one of the shelves against the wall to rearrange a few things.

"What?" Bianca inquired, turning to watch him. "What are you going to reprogram them for?"

"Threats," he returned shortly, picking up a rounded incense burner and inspecting it before placing it back onto the shelf.

"Are you that scared of betrayal?" Bianca questioned indignantly.

Wyatt turned back towards her, glaring at her, lifting his head to the side as he tried to get his own anger under control, his chest rising and falling as he tried to keep it contained.

"I'm not going to lose all that I've acquired. I'm not about to have everything I've worked so hard to get back taken from me again. I thought of all people you would understand that, that you would appreciate what I've been through, what we have done and fought for just to get to this point."

"So you're going to display it all here?" Bianca asked, taking on a much calmer tone as she looked around at his little setup, searching for things she recognised. Her eyes falling on the dais, she took a step towards it. "What's this?"

"The centrepiece of this room," Wyatt said, taking great strides towards it, placing his hand protectively on its wooden surface. "My mother and her sisters kept the book here for easy access. I'd often see them flicking through its pages to locate one demon or another. I took an early interest in its contents, from even before I could read myself. Just the illustrations inside were profoundly artistic."

"But the book's not here," Bianca pointed out.

"Of course not. I couldn't keep the actual thing here, not with the amount of people coming through. It would be far too dangerous to leave such a thing exposed to prying eyes, which is why I'm going to use a replica."

"A replica?" Bianca repeated. "Like a fake copy?"

"A holographic copy," Wyatt said, pride and joy creeping onto his face. "And we are going to collect it today. There's a holographics convention in town this weekend, with all the supplies we need to immaculately complete this place, cater it to its full potential."

Bianca sighed. "Haven't we done enough for today?"

"I haven't."

"I know you haven't," she grumbled under her breath.

"Besides this is the last day of the convention. This is when they pull out all the big stops to make certain their products are a complete success. We can't miss out. I'm not waiting for another year to pass by before this venture becomes operational."

"Why not another hour?" Bianca challenged. "We have to eat. If we go in on empty stomachs then we aren't going to be completely focused on the job. That's what you need to learn – a little patience."

"I have patience enough," Wyatt said, taken aback. "Anyone who cooks knows that patience is a factor. If you need some proof, then I'll cook us one of my mother's infamous lunch treats. How's that for a genuine offer?"

Licking her lips, Bianca's gaze shifted away from him momentarily as she thought about the possibilities of him cooking an extravagant meal for them, one that featured meat, and potatoes, and an array of vegetables; silverware laid out properly on the table, perhaps a large platter being carried from the kitchen with a wide selection of food. She'd never had anything so grand, even though Wyatt only said it was a 'treat' indicating something small, her stomach was crying out for more. Slowly her gaze found its way back to him.

"That would be nice," she said politely.

"Okay well we'll eat in the dining room, so meet me there."

As he followed her towards the doorway, he glanced back at the contents of the room, his hand fastened around the edge of the door.

"I'm going to have to rope this off too. Can't have people just traipsing around."

* * *

Taking Bianca's upper arm, Wyatt moved her steadily through the crowd. The over-filled exhibition hall held thousands of stands, some filled with books, some filled with crystals and other new-age looking objects, some containing geeky shirts that declared a love of science, but all had hundreds of people crammed in and around them, blocking the walkways as individuals pushed to get through. Not having any idea where they were going, Bianca let Wyatt guide her between people until they reached a large crowd gathered in a wide circle towards the back of the room. As he slowed his pace and dropped his hand away from her, Bianca decelerated also, taking the opportunity to browse over what she could see in front of her. A wide variety of heads all stared towards the centre. Bianca moved slightly but the only things visible to her were the faded blue beams of light jettisoning up towards the roof.

"We are the only holography lab in the world to specialise in true full motion imagery," the presenter bragged. "Everyone gathered here at this moment will be the first to witness this brand new technology. We've combined the elements of our decade long research and testing with a localised knowledge of how to reach the people. This kind of realism we are working to bring into every home across the state, and possibly in another ten years we may be able to do so on a much smaller scale."

Smiling at the idea of being able to reach more people on a larger scale, Wyatt looked towards Bianca happily. "My kind of deal."

Pushing forward, he delved into the thickened crowd, Bianca only glancing at them imprudently before curiously following him towards the front of the exhibit. Stopping as they reached the opposite end of the crowd, she looked at the large round black disc that sat on the floor before them, not only blue lights but green as well crisscrossing across its surface. Her eyes scanned the surface, looking for some way to tell what it could be used for. Wyatt glanced quickly at it before folding his arms and turning his attention back to the exhibit presenter.

"Everything is possible with this new technology. Video games are at the forefront of creativity, and we've developed some of the most popular games into this format just to display to you what we've been able to achieve. _Deadly Pursuit_ is an audiovisual assault on the senses," the presenter started, turning to click on a small screen against the wall which ran a pre-programmed commercial featuring a motorcycle riding along a deserted road, many threatening looking pursuers not far behind the man on it, "where you'll have the opportunity to ride a motorcycle without any experience, be able to evade attackers with the kind of finesse that up until now you would need training for. But that's only the beginning. Now, through our developments, you can make things however you want them to be. The best prime example of this is our newest program _Fight or Die_ which is a hand to hand combat style game. Could I have some volunteers to help me here?"

"Sure," Wyatt said, unfolding his arms, waving his fingers in the air as he nodded his head.

"Thank you, young man. Why don't you come up here? Give him a round of applause everybody," the presenter encouraged.

As the excited and enthralled people around them began to applaud loudly, Wyatt looked proud as punch climbing up the stairs next to the presenter, as if he'd finally received the recognition he'd been looking for. Bianca looked around nervously, shaking her head at him disapprovingly as he turned back to face her.

"Okay, we still need one more. Anyone else feel like taking up the challenge? Anyone feel like going one on one with this handsome fellow to my right?"

"What about her?" Wyatt suggested, pointing Bianca out. Shaking her head vehemently, Bianca took a step back, the crowd dividing slightly to let her through. "She's the only one who can match my skills."

Smiling broadly, the presenter made his way down the steps, microphone in hand as he seized Bianca's arm and pulled her back from the crowd towards the stage.

"No, I can't," Bianca protested as he yanked her forward.

"Don't worry. There's nothing to be afraid of. You won't get hurt; it's just a holographic representation of you. You don't have to have any skills whatsoever," the presenter said to her quietly, trying to ease her mind as he pulled her up the stairs and placed her next to Wyatt. He turned back to the crowd. "Just to inform you, I do not know these people, they are just ordinary citizens like each and every one of you, just because they look like models doesn't mean we planted them in the crowd."

Feeling uncomfortable, Bianca folded her arms as her eyes scanned the crowd, rolling them non-too-subtly at the presenter's suggestion. Turning to look at Wyatt, she glared at him for putting her in this position.

"I'm so going to kill you," she seethed.

"Looking forward to it," Wyatt replied cockily.

"What's your name, miss?" the presenter asked, his hand brushing against her shoulder.

Turning to look at him, she pulled away quickly. She couldn't answer his question. She couldn't reveal her identity in front of such a large crowd of people. It was already dangerous enough that they could see her. And Wyatt, the things they had done together, the laws they had broken just because they had the power too – because he had desired to regain his identity so much; they couldn't expose everything right here and now just because he had had an inclination to participate in a new development.

"Her name's Elisa," Wyatt said, indicating towards her. "And mine is Christian."

Surprised, Bianca looked back to him. Even though he wasn't so big on pre-planning things, he did think well on his feet. She had just presumed his spontaneity was finally going to get them into trouble, when Wyatt had simply given them new identities to participate in this little experiment. Doing little more than raising an eyebrow at her in response to her reaction, the expression so subtle and controlled that only the closest could see it; Bianca noted the smug look on his face and glanced back quickly to the presenter to see if he had bought the lie.

"Well, we'll just get you two suited up while I explain to everyone how this works? If you'll just follow these two people," the presenter instructed.

Glaring at Wyatt once more as a woman took her by the shoulders and led her to the right, she saw another man do the same to Wyatt and lead him over to the left of the black disc. Stepping into the glass booth with the woman, noticing it was possible to fit another six people in there which indeed gave you room to move if it remained empty, she again felt overexposed in front of the whole crowd staring at her. In the corners and on various points of the walls she saw tiny round sensors aimed towards the centre. Disinterestedly, she looked over the grey suit the woman had to offer her. It looked like it was made from some kind of lycra body-hugging type of material. Removing her shoes, she began to step into the legs of the outfit, pulling it up to her waist as she listened to the presenter's speech.

"This is what we call Integral Holography. It is a two step process that we only used to be able to produce in our labs, but now technology has allowed us to be more versatile and shoot on location. What will happen will be that the two people in the booths will first be scanned," he began. Bianca squinted, shying away from the light that suddenly blinked to life near her head, scanning the full surface of her body. "Usually we shoot first onto sixteen millimetre or thirty-five millimetre motion picture film, but for today we have sent it straight through to our computer systems so things can be magnified, altered and changed to the specifications that you require. After the initial setup is completed, we transfer it with a laser to hologram film, which is what this large black disc here on the floor is for. We use real-time technology to reproduce the actions of the people in the booths onto the main stage here. These images can be displayed flat, curved or cylindrical, and using the latter two, as we have done here today, makes it possible to watch the holographic images from a three hundred and sixty degree vantage point, making it more accessible to a larger audience such as yourselves."

Grimacing, Bianca could see directly across from her on the other side of the disc, Wyatt stood in his own grey suit. He wasn't even looking in her direction - too busy fastening his long hair into a ponytail as he stared at the ground in front of him. In-between them she saw something flicker. Blinking her eyes to adjust to the lights, she saw that nothing had appeared. Wearily she rubbed her hand across her eyes, almost jumping as she heard Wyatt's voice booming behind her.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

"Yes," Bianca said slowly, her eyes darting around the booth, trying to determine where his voice was coming from. Finally she looked back across the disc and saw he was still standing there. Licking her lips nervously as she looked around again, her eyes settled back on the figure standing in the other booth. "They've got an audio setup?"

"They do. So we can communicate better," Wyatt explained.

"As you can see, both Christian and Elisa are now wearing our specially made motion detection suits. There's sensors on the glass walls that will pick up every movement they make and display it in holographic motion. There is no way that they can get hurt, and that's what makes this such a viable option for training or just having a bit of fun," the presenter continued, pointing out the various aspects he was speaking of behind him. "Inside these booths there is also an audio system set up. You can see from how far apart they are that such a thing is required for proficient communication, otherwise they would have to yell at each other across the room. This way they can focus less on straining their vocal chords, and more on the actions they are carrying out."

"Are you going to play fair?" Bianca asked Wyatt.

"Certainly. Why wouldn't I?" Wyatt responded innocently.

"We'll just run the visual up now," the presenter said. "As you can see, it is slightly different. You can alter things in whichever way you desire."

"Cause you're a cocky, arrogant bastard," Bianca replied.

The image flicked up between them – two figures. The one facing towards her was definitely Wyatt, only his clothes were different. He was wearing what she would have termed as street clothes, a brown hooded jacket thrown over the top, left undone with the hood hanging down. The one with its back to her was meant to be her, but she found it hard to believe it was her. She was wearing jeans and a dark jacket, which wasn't too out of the ordinary, but her hair wasn't tied back. She stared at the image with fascination, wondering how it was possible to fight, to kill, without every strand tied back tightly. It was at that point she realised how much of an effect Michael had had on her, how he had drilled everything into her so far beneath the surface that she'd never even consciously recognised she was still following his rules, she was still under his command without him even being there.

Suddenly she saw her image fly back, landing roughly on the ground, feeling the motion only slightly herself. Gasping at being caught off-guard, she looked up to see Wyatt with his hands outstretched, obviously retaliating to the comment she had just made. Forcing the image to climb back to its feet, she ran at him, throwing her hand forward to deliver a punch. He blocked it then delivered one of his own.

"What's the matter, Bianca? Did I work you too hard?" he taunted.

Glancing at him as he stood to the side, drawing her hand away from her stomach, she lifted her foot to deliver a side-on kick to his abdomen, self-satisfied that she'd made an impact this time as his image stumbled a little backwards while she righted herself.

"Not hard enough," she said.

Lifting her hands close to her body, she saw him slide forward, dropping down to try and take her legs out from under her. Expertly she jumped, missing the swing completely as she landed back on her feet and Wyatt stood once more.

"Missed me," she taunted.

Throwing his left hand forward, she used her right to catch him at the wrist, spinning back onto him and lifting the opposite elbow to deliver a hard knock to his face. She smiled as she glanced over her shoulder to see the image of Wyatt have his head knocked back. With some superlative strength, he threw her forward onto the ground and leant over her.

"You're going to play rough, are you?" he questioned.

"Only if you want me to," she bit back vociferously.

Hauling her back to her feet, Wyatt took a step back, bouncing from foot to foot as he waited for her next move. Smiling confidently as she stood there, unmoving, looking over his figure as if anticipating her next move, he spread his arms out wide and settled back onto his heels.

"C'mon, I'll give you a free shot," he said invitingly.

Rushing forward, she threw her fist forward, her eyes warily lifting to his face to ensure he wasn't going to sneak another attack. True to his word, her let her hit him squarely in the chest, but the impact wasn't as great as she had hoped. He barely flinched. Settling back onto the balls of her feet, she bounced lightly on them as she prepared herself and hit him again, not once but twice.

"Ow," he said mockingly before laughing. "Don't know how people find you threatening. You hit like a girl."

Seething, she put more power behind her punches, and actually managed to have a little more impact this time around, his face wincing slightly as he took a step back. Stepping back herself, Bianca moved her body into position before lifting her foot before her, aiming for his chest with her heel. She was quick, but not quick enough. Wyatt slammed his hands together around her ankle, wedging his palms underneath the base and lifting up as hard and fast as he could. Feeling herself growing unsteady, Bianca leant back until she felt her palms hit the ground, the momentum Wyatt created easily flipping her over backwards, her other foot following, clipping him unintentionally under the base of the chin.

"Want a little more?" Bianca asked, settling into a crouching position before pushing herself back to her feet as Wyatt rubbed his chin.

"I'll think about it," he mused. Glancing back out to the crowd and the presenter, he asked: "Anyone keeping count here?"

Bianca followed his gaze, her eyes locking on a spot just past Wyatt. A young brunette man stood in the crowd, his hair spiked, his face almost covered by the collar of his army green jacket. Pushing his sunglasses back up his nose, he quickly turned away and pushed back through the crowd as Wyatt glanced back in the same direction Bianca now seemed to be staring. Looking back to her with an inquiring mind, he put it aside as he realised he had another opportunity to attack again. Dropping down, he kicked her legs out from under her, standing as she fell back, almost onto her side as she pushed herself up with her hand, glaring up at him.

"You didn't wait for me," she complained. Reaching down he helped her up as a bell sounded, pulling her in closely.

"You have to keep your eye on the prize," he said.

The image flickered away, Bianca drawing back and blinking her eyes, realising she had been more focused on the image in front of her than where she was herself. It was only a matter of seconds before she saw Wyatt standing next to her, watching her with interest as he waited for her to remove her suit and climb out of the booth. His eyes flicked up towards the back screen. Turning she saw that they had actually been keeping score on the moves they'd employed, Wyatt obviously coming out on top but only by a handful of points.

"Is this why we came here?" she challenged. "So you could show off and prove how much better than me you are?"

"Not by much," he said, indicating towards the scoreboard. Bianca looked away from him, annoyed that he thought the game had been so important to her. In a minor way it had, it had showed her a few things about herself, about him, but she wasn't going to admit that. "No, that wasn't the reason we came here. That was a bit of fun. Next stop will be to order the book, then once we collect the pane we can go. I just want to put it up in the hallway, get out some old imagery of my family to display. It'll make the place more… exciting."

Quickly brushing off the presenter and the crowd, they disappeared back into the masses, heading for the stall Wyatt had intentionally planned on going to in the first place. Bianca looked around as they passed groups of people, trying to see if she could recognise the suspiciously acting young man from the crowd.

"Someone was watching us," Bianca said quietly to Wyatt. "While we were up there."

"Everybody was watching us," he said, smirking.

"No, not this person. He was planning something. Or he recognised us. We have to be careful."

"Don't worry, Bianca. I have everything under control."

Bianca peered at him from the corner of her eye. He seemed completely self-assured with his statement, but there was something about the way he was acting that indicated there was some kind of threat he was aware of, one he didn't want her to know about. Feeling his hand press lightly between her shoulder blades as he looked everywhere but at her, she saw the store they needed off to the left and stepped inside.


	19. Chapter 19

**2024**

Laying her chin on her hands, Bianca looked at the board in front of her. It was crisscrossed with tiny two colour squares red as blood and black as midnight. She had taken the former whilst Wyatt had taken the latter. After many moments of thought, she lifted her head and stretched out her arm, moving the coin-shaped checker piece one spot to the right.

"Did I ever tell you that I'm the master of this game?" he commented.

"Many a time," she replied absently.

"I always win," he gloated. Glancing down at the board he saw what she had done. "Hey, you blocked me in!"

"Did I?" she asked innocently.

Pouting, he leant his elbow on the table and dropped his jaw into his hand. Studying the board, he reached for one checker piece, drew back before touching it, reached for another, decided against it, and moved another nearby, leaping over her red coin and snatching in into the air, smiling triumphantly as he held up his closed fist. Watching him, her expression unfazed, Bianca reached back to the board and moved her coin over three of his, Wyatt's jubilance evidently souring.

"I can't do anything. We might as well quit. How did you beat me?" he asked incredulously.

"It pays to stay one step ahead of your opponent," Bianca started, drawing back.

"Most of my opponents are dim-witted fools anyway," Wyatt said.

Pushing himself to his feet, he looked around the room thoughtfully, the sky growing progressively darker out the window. "I propose an elaborate celebration for the winner."

Bianca watched him attentively. "What did you have in mind?"

"Fireworks, fruit, dragons and lanterns."

"That is elaborate," Bianca commented. "I take it you're not going to conduct that in this tiny apartment?"

"Well, no. It's pre-planned. A little thing called Chinese New Year."

"Ah," Bianca remarked, now seeing what he meant – the annual celebration down in Chinatown.

"Care to join me?" he asked. Waving his hand an expensive dress orbed its way onto the seat of the nearby armchair. Bianca glanced over to the neatly folded bundle, slightly bemused and quizzical as she looked back to him. "It is traditional to wear red."

"How do you know I haven't got somewhere else to go?"

"You never have anything else to do. At least not the ninety percent of the time I'm with you." Seeing her drop her head dejectedly, he continued in a more spirited manner: "Just because you work for me doesn't mean we can't have a little fun."

"I know," she said morosely. Glancing back up at him she inquired further. "Fun with a job on the side, right?"

"You've been around me too long," Wyatt said, shaking his head. "There are always warfare leaders hiding in that community, and yes tonight, the one time of year when they put down their magic and weapons, would be an opportune moment for us to dispose of one of them. But I meant what I said, I want to celebrate your win."

"Okay," she agreed.

Glancing over to the armchair, she reached for the dress and pulled it towards her, allowing it to unfold as she lifted it before her to inspect it.

"It's also tradition that people get changed in the living room." Wyatt said slyly.

Lowering the dress to her lap, she glared at him. "I'll use my own, thanks."

Without waiting for him to retaliate, she shimmered back to her place, changing into the delicate red material and winding her hair back. As she pushed a sharpened rod into her hair to fasten it, she paused halfway with her arm still in the air staring at her reflection. It was another thing Michael had drummed into her. She hated the way that she still blindly followed everything he had told her without him being around. Frustrated, she dropped her hand down and turned quickly, hating the image she saw, the reflected self of what he had made her to be. Throwing open her cupboard she looked for a pair of shoes to match, sitting on the bed as she pulled them on and thinking she'd rather throw them across the room at something to watch it become as broken as she felt inside.

Drawing in a deep breath to calm herself and resolve her composure, she shimmered back to Wyatt's apartment, her mood quickly lifting once she spied the red shirt he was wearing. Seeing the smothered amusement on her face, he looked down at his clothes.

"Too bright, isn't it?" he questioned rhetorically. Lifting the shirt over his head, he scrunched it up into a ball and tossed it onto the couch, orbing a deep burgundy coloured shirt to himself as a replacement and pulling it on. "Wonder if that's dark enough to hide the blood stains."

"You really are planning a slaughter, aren't you?" she questioned. His gaze moved over to hers.

"Don't tell me you're afraid," he said in a low, mocking voice. Bianca shook her head. Wyatt smiled with approval. "That's a good girl."

She raised her eyebrows inquiringly at the comment, but seeing she was going to receive no explanation for it she simply shrugged it off and said: "Occasionally I'd just like to know what our objective is before we get there."

"Fun," Wyatt replied cheerily. "Mischief and mayhem in a strict environment."

"Is there any real cause to this?"

"No," Wyatt replied innocently. "But we'll find one."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Taking a step closer, she suddenly found herself transported to a narrow street. Hundreds of people filled the street. She felt herself pushed back as two teen boys ran past.

"Hey!" she shouted after them, regaining her footing. They continued on their way, ignoring her, her voice almost drowned out by the celebrations of the jubilant crowd.

Looking around she saw that despite the time so infinitely immersed in nightfall, the street was hardly dark. Every metre or two hung brightly coloured lanterns, lights blazing from the inside of every paper box. Children waved around sparklers, and there was the distant sound of people letting small crackers off. Everywhere she looked there was music and laughter and joy. Glancing at Wyatt as if he was her only salvation in this environment where she was beginning to feel more than uncomfortable, she stepped behind him as he motioned for her to follow him up the street. Glaring almost hatefully at the cheerful children who brushed past, she continued weaving her way through the assortment of bodies in Wyatt's stead, her attention suddenly caught by the bright lights exploding in the air. Wyatt stopped in a clearing less filled with exhilarated people, turning his head up towards the sky as he watched also.

"For the world's incumbency does make vain light seek itself, and calling itself, light of light, itself it beguiles. So, unless one finds where light in darkness lies, light grows dark by the loss of one's eyes," Wyatt quoted contemplatively.

Bianca lowered her head to look at him. "You're not going to gouge someone's eyes out?"

His eyes turning towards hers, he laughed and shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked towards her, looking down at her as he stepped closely by her.

"No, it's Shakespeare," he explained. "Although I have been known to pop my own out on occasion."

Bianca's mouth dropped open in shock, horrified to hear such a thing. She watched him to see if he was serious, looking for a hint in his composure that he was joking, but instead he just turned his head back up towards the sky watching the fireworks pop into streaming star-like patterns.

"So simple," he mused. "One of these days they're going to think of something elaborate to do."

"Is it always the same?" Bianca asked, looking back up to watch the sequence. She couldn't remember having seen a fireworks display since she was little, although she was aware of the few times she had gone out on special occasions, but they were Phoenix missions and she spent more time focused on the task at hand than what was going on around her. They never gave her time to stop and think, to relax and wonder, for they were always on the move until the job was done.

"Yes," Wyatt sighed. "Just goes to show what lack of imagination mere mortals have. I suppose if they had the power they'd think of more interesting ways to display things."

"I think it's more to do with the capability of the device than the person who triggers it," Bianca stated.

"I suppose that's the advantage of being infinitely gifted," Wyatt said. Removing his hands from his pockets, he lifted them into the air, turning his palms up as he generated a stream of bluish-white orbs from his hands. "Like the ancient earthly gazers of heaven's lights who give a name to every fixed star, have no more profit from their shining night than others who walk the Earth and know not what they are."

Watching them intertwine as they rose into the air, Bianca saw the orbs billow out into a conical shape, the ends flickering out at the sides until they moved up and down as the body solidified. A small smile crossed her face as she realised it was a bird, its white appearance making it look more like a dove than anything else. After a few flaps of its wings, and a little push upwards from Wyatt's palms, the wings grew longer, spreading out at the sides until they joined at the bottom, the body having sunken into an m shape. She looked at the heart, her eyes glancing away briefly towards the young children who had come to watch his antics. As she looked back, seeing him lift one hand, circling it around as he concentrated on what was above him, she saw the heart split into two, its ends joining into two separate rings that floated towards one another, linking and twisting as he moved his hands in the air to spin them around.

Behind him, a young child shoved a handful of crackers into a box and set them alight. The loud explosion startled both Wyatt and Bianca. Wyatt instantly lost his concentration – dropping his hands down, the orbs disintegrating into nothingness as he looked around anxiously. Just as warily Bianca glanced around them, conjuring an athame into her hand without thinking – it was strictly second-nature to her. Hearing the culprits gasp and run from her at the sight, her attention was drawn to the small area they had been gathered around, and what remained of the pieces of box. Kneeling down she inspected the damage, glancing up to Wyatt as she determined there was no threat.

"It's okay. Just some kids making a nuisance of themselves," she said.

"Weren't we the ones who were meant to be causing trouble?" he jibed. Getting little to no reaction from Bianca, he continued in a more serious tone: "Perhaps we should mingle."

Standing, Bianca followed him back into the midst of the crowd, carefully vanishing the athame from her grip. She didn't want to have to hurt anyone unnecessarily. Loud clanging sounds coming up behind them, they dodged out of the way onto the pathway and people came dancing down the street with instruments in hand, a giant multi-coloured dragon waving about in tow.

"Year of the dragon," Wyatt whispered to Bianca as they watched the parade pass.

Moving back onto the street, they only walked a little further before Wyatt headed for the stalls, his mind obviously still on fun over mayhem as he picked up three tangerines from the fruit stall before them.

"Watch this," he said, turning back to Bianca.

Slowly the pieces of fruit rose into the air surrounded by orbs, one at a time until they all hung suspended. After a moment they each dropped, one after the other until he was magically juggling them. Someone bumping into him as they passed, breaking his concentration, one fell forward, Bianca snatching it quickly into her hand as Wyatt set the remainder in his palms, gently placing them back where he'd gotten them from.

"Here," Bianca said, handing the last to him.

As the tangerine exchanged hands, Wyatt watched on in dismay as the leaf tumbled from the stem to the ground. Staring at the fruit, he lifted his gaze sorrowfully to Bianca's. She returned it with one of impatience, unaware of what had just happened. She had no idea of this culture's customs or superstitions, but Wyatt knew them well, and he recognised the sign. Just like the leaf breaking from the tangerine, their relationship was not going to last the year through – it was destined to fall apart also.

"You must pay for those!" the vendor yelled at Wyatt as he placed the last tangerine back.

"I'm not paying for it. It's broken," Wyatt said, offering a feeble excuse for his impish activities.

"You littered my goods with your dirty hands! You keep your filthy magic to yourself!"

"Filthy?" Wyatt repeated, his eyes narrowing. "I don't think a paltry inferior person such as you should be directing such language at me."

Locking his hands underneath the cart, he turned it up back towards the man, burying him a mound of fruit as it all tumbled backwards. Glancing overhead at the cloth overhang framed by a dozen lanterns, Wyatt lifted his hand and tossed an energy ball at the corners, the drapery falling down over the man, the lanterns smashing onto the ground and sparking alight. Grabbing Bianca's hand, he pulled her back with him away from the chaotic mess and onto the street again. Glancing around abhorrently at the fearless people, who felt the need to defend the vendor and attack Wyatt, he let go of Bianca and splayed an array of magic across his surrounds. Confused by the onrush of orbs, most of the people froze in awe, the ignorant ones racing forward only to be knocked back as Wyatt activated his forcefield, the blue bubble rising up and around his figure. Glancing behind him, he saw a good opportunity for Bianca to escape, he just had to send her after someone else.

"Bianca, that's the warlord! Follow him!" he commanded.

Turning, Bianca saw a middle-aged agile man leaping through a portal. Glancing back quickly to Wyatt and nodding, she took up chase and ran after him, leaping through as the portal closed. She discovered upon landing that it was merely a transportation means. She'd arrived at his home, a large manor, and was standing by the pool in his backyard. Another few inches to her right and they would have landed in the water. She looked about the darkened yard, only slightly illuminated by the tiki torches that stood around the pool and garden. The warlord was nowhere in sight. Glancing to her left, she looked up the length of the house, searching for a lighted room inside where he could be hiding.

* * *

"Chris, can you get that?" an elderly man called out from the storeroom.

"I've got a customer!" Chris yelled back.

With a heavy sigh, the old man emerged from the back room into the store and picked up the receiver, peering sourly at Chris over his glasses as the young boy folded his arms and turned back to the unsure woman in front of him, smiling conceitedly.

"FTC Skateboarding, Gary speaking," the old man said into the phone.

"I'm sorry about that," Chris apologised. "Now, as I was saying, this board here is a beauty. It's made by Initial who are one of the best companies around. If you'll notice the deck is made of different types of wood layers which make it ten times stronger than the original series. I even tried it myself on this notoriously difficult cement stretch where most boards get ruined, but this one held up quite well. I know it looks expensive, but it's built to last, which means that it's well worth the money. Your son will love it, I can assure you. And hey, it's super glossy and looks really nice, that should appeal to you as well right? So it doesn't look as if you went and paid twenty bucks to a friend for a second-hand one. This looks incredibly special and he's gonna know how important he is to you if this is what you give him."

"I really don't know," the woman said, looking at it thoughtfully. "Maybe I should come back."

"Well it's the last one. I wouldn't think about it for too long. They sell quite quickly," Chris said, repeating one of his age old sales pitches. Sweetly he added: "I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

"Okay then. I suppose you're right," the woman agreed, sighing. "If it's going to last him a while then it's worth it."

Chris pulled the skateboard off the wall. Following Chris over to the register as she fumbled for money in her purse, she looked back towards the glass display windows at the front of the store as a roar sounded outside. Chris, laying the skateboard flat on the counter, looked up also to see a giant mythical creature flying past the window outside. His mouth dropping open slightly, he looked over to Gary as he put the receiver back in the cradle.

"I, uh, have to go," he said.

Leaving the lady stranded on the other side of the counter, Chris raced around it back towards the wall, pulling down a hoverboard and leaping onto the deck.

"Chris, what are you doing? You haven't even finished the sale!" Gary yelled.

"I'm taking care of something," Chris explained, starting up the hoverboard so that it rose a little higher off the ground.

"You can't leave! Your shift isn't over," Gary protested. Seeing Chris push off the ground with his foot towards the door, he continued to shout: "What the hell are you doing? You can't steal the merchandise!"

"I'll pay for it," Chris said offhandedly. As he left, he looked over his shoulder, calling back: "If you need someone, get Justin. He owes me anyway for setting him up with my cousin."

Following the dragon down the street, Chris tilted the board slightly as it quickly turned the corner, hearing the air gush out as it came into contact with nothingness, easing himself back so that the propulsion pushed against the road again. He was moving fast, but not as fast as the dragon before him. Seeing it glide up and over a large house, Chris knew he had no choice but to orb. He couldn't make the board climb that high; it didn't have enough power in it. Squaring himself off steadily, he orbed both himself and the hoverboard to the backyard. As he reappeared, he glanced quickly up to the sky to see the dragon was now starting to make its descent. Looking ahead of him as the board glided forward, he saw there was a young girl standing mystified off to his right. Passing her, he grabbed her arm and hauled her up, the board continuing over the water and then stopping.

"Shit," Chris cursed, only now realising the board didn't run on water.

The abrupt stop threw both of them forward into the water. Chris was the first to land, and the first to surface. Looking up he saw the dragon coming towards them, Bianca surfacing next to them. Instantly he reached out towards her before she had a chance to clear her eyes, pushing her back down under the water. She wrestled beneath his grip, struggling to get to the surface as he held her down. The dragon opening his mouth, Chris ducked under the water as a large barrage of flame skipped across the water's surface and incinerated the garden around it.

Underneath the water, Bianca finally got her first look at the perpetrator as he sank underneath with her, still holding onto her tightly. Her time running out, she felt herself breathe in a mouthful of water. Tilting herself back as she tried to pull away, she kicked him harshly with her feet, his grip finally loosening enough for her to push herself to the surface, gasping and coughing as she did so. Chris rose up after her, his hands still securely on her arms, this time holding her more up than down for buoyancy. Tossing her head to the side as she tried to get the hair out of her face, her brown eyes met his bright green ones showing both concern and something like fascination for her. Their eyes stayed locked on one another for a few seconds as they bobbed in the matter before Bianca's expression grew colder, roughly pushing and kicking at him until she could propel herself back through the water away from him.

Wading her way to the edge, she pulled herself up out of the pool, holding onto her stomach as she coughed again, her lungs trying to expel the water it had taken in. Chris swam to the stairs, climbing his way out of the pool as he walked towards her. She held up her hand warily.

"Don't come any closer. Not unless you want me to do some major damage to you," she threatened. Coughing again, she brushed the hair away from her face, her hair clip obviously lost somewhere in the middle of the pool. "Mind telling me what that was for? I don't appreciate being drowned for nothing."

Placing his hands on his hips, Chris glanced up to the sky. He saw the dragon circle once more before it took off, Bianca only seeing its tail before it disappeared.

"I was trying to save you," Chris said somewhat apologetically, although the irritation still showed through in his voice. "Unless you don't mind being a burnt-up corpse. But you see, the thing is, I like to keep people alive."

"Nice way of showing it," Bianca said snidely.

"You try being in my shoes. It's not like I want to keep chasing after the mess some people cause," Chris said. Bianca looked at him strangely. "My brother has a fondness for dragons. Or didn't you know that?"

"I don't know you," Bianca argued. "Or your brother. In fact the only thing I know is thanks to you I now have a lung full of water."

"That's gotta be a lot less than you've endured hanging around him," Chris said, watching on as she coughed again.

"Who?"

"Wyatt."

Bianca lifted her gaze towards him, her eyes for the first time looking properly at the figure standing before her. This was Chris, the one from the book, the brother who Wyatt was on such bad terms with. It was no surprise to her in this case that he would be bad-mouthing the very man who was providing her living.

"I have a job to do," she said coldly, not wanting to enter into any personal discussions with him. "So if you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone, and you can go chase after your little dragon friend and achieve your high moral standing."

"Fine, I will. But you just remember - he's bad business. If you need help…"

"I don't need your kind of help," Bianca said.

Grinding his teeth, Chris orbed out, leaving Bianca alone. Doing a quick surveillance scan of the sky and what remained of the yard, she noticed that part of the door to the manor had also been scorched, leaving an easy access point for her to get in. Smirking, she made her way over to the door, raising her leg and kicking it in with her heel.


	20. Chapter 20

**2024 **_cont._

Sitting cross-legged on her bed in her bedroom, Bianca stared out the sliding door to the view of the Bay Bridge she had been afforded, not doing anything in particular except thinking over her encounter with Chris. In her mind she was trying to determine that which she did not know, the exact reason behind their dislike of one another. One five minute encounter with Chris was not going to help her determine in any way whether it was simply a personality clash or something more. She couldn't even work out why Chris said it was bad for her to hang around Wyatt; why he'd even insinuate that she was, and probably had been, hurt. Physically, yes, she knew that was a possibility – it was part of the job – but she knew from previous experience that she fared a lot worse on her own. Mentally and emotionally he had not affected her at all, not like Michael. He'd never been manipulative, always allowing her to do her own thing, and he'd been more than generous towards her. In no way could she view Wyatt as a threat, or someone who was even remotely likely to betray her. He had her trust, he had earned that much over the passing years.

Stepping outside she found it was overcast, the distilled grey clouds pushing their way through the sky as if they were slow moving peak hour trams filled with people and caught in some bizarre traffic jam. The wind whipped around her face, causing her hair to brush across her cheeks. There was a certain freeness to this. She closed her eyes in thought, taking in the sensation, her hands on the banister as she leant forward into the breeze. It almost felt as easy as to fly away from here, to fall without landing.

Pushing herself up and away from the balcony, she knew she needed to distract herself somehow. She shimmered to Wyatt's only to discover he wasn't there, his absence pervading the place with a certain deadly silence. Taking a rough estimation as to where he could be, she shimmered to the manor, appearing just around the corner from the large house. It was the safest place to materialize now that the museum was open and running. Casually she made her way towards the front of the house, hearing two voices and then seeing two male figures. She slowed her pace, approaching them cautiously, realising it was Wyatt and Chris, her ears straining to hear the argumentative conversation as it drifted her way.

"Why can't I go in?" Chris asked, indicating towards the door. "You let everyone else in, as long as they're happy, paying customers. This is my home too!"

"No, it's not. You never cared about it, little brother. You gave up that right long ago."

Folding his arms, Chris began to orb out. Knowing what he was up to, Wyatt waved his hand at the orbs, the upward momentum now drifting sideways and back to the ground as Chris reappeared. Landing on his backside, his hands squarely against the ground as he lifted his head to glare at Wyatt, he brought up his right hand and swept it in Wyatt's direction, the smirk fading from Wyatt's face as he found only air underneath his feet, his back soon connecting with the front door. Running the last few steps, Bianca held her hand out to help Wyatt up.

"That was uncalled for," Wyatt said to Chris, dusting himself off as he stood again, arching his back to make sure it was still okay.

"Just because you've spent your whole life being a bully, doesn't mean someone else can't," Chris retaliated.

"I wasn't _'bullying'_ you. I was stopping you from going where I told you not to, magical or otherwise… that includes orbing."

Chris looked to Bianca as if searching for help. "You see what he does? Does he give you a free pass to this?"

"Don't talk to her," Wyatt warned.

"I already have," Chris said dryly, looking back to Wyatt. "And at least you weren't there to interrupt that time."

Bianca did not see the look of fire in Wyatt's eyes, the one that passed from Chris to her. She was still far too annoyed with Chris, her sole attention focused on him.

"At least I don't have to be concerned for my safety – there's no body of water nearby," she commented sarcastically.

"I already told you, I wasn't trying to kill you," Chris tried to explain.

"It'd take more than that to kill me," Bianca retorted defiantly.

At this, Wyatt reached forward, the interior of his hand at Chris' jugular, his fingers wrapping crudely around his neck and pressing into the skin as he lifted him into the air, his eyes blazing as he looked up at his younger brother struggling for breath.

"Do I need to threaten you? Don't go around behind my back trying to assassinate my team members because your heart isn't in our cause."

"I wasn't," Chris managed to choke out, his hands trying to peel Wyatt's fingers away as he swung his legs and tried to wriggle his body free, eventually succeeding as Wyatt loosened his hold. "I wouldn't want to play any part in your self-satisfying games, not if my life depended on it."

"Don't make it sound so futile," Wyatt said, working his hand as he slowly lowered it by his side.

"Destroying half the city isn't nothing," Chris argued. "It's narcissistic, especially when you're doing it for your own purposes. You can't be king of the world, Wyatt. It doesn't work like that."

"Keep pushing, Chris," Wyatt warned. "Next thing you know you'll be orbed to somewhere remotely vile, and I won't hesitate to send you somewhere halfway across the world."

Looking back to Bianca and seeing that she was not going to dispute the suggestion, Chris shook his head in provocation. Turning, he began to walk away, stopping halfway down the front lawn as he glanced over his shoulder back towards Wyatt.

"Hope I'm not banned from walking either, since you don't want me to orb anywhere," he said bitterly.

Wyatt lifted his hand, then thought better of it as he realised Chris was probably expecting him to throw him or orb him away somewhere, hence also effectively proving whatever point his younger brother was trying to make to Bianca about him. Turning his palm towards Chris, he mockingly wiggled his fingers.

"Bye," he said childishly. "Enjoy the journey."

"He doesn't understand what we're doing, does he?" Bianca queried.

"My brother, unfortunately, fails to see the bigger picture. He lets his personal feelings blindside the truth to the matter. He thinks in the short term – therefore he believes I'm just being destructive if I stop one person. He doesn't see that by stopping one person, I stop the next; I stop things from getting worse. I'm improving things for our future." Giving Bianca a look of concern, he suggested: "I think you should stay at my place tonight. I don't want you to be on your own in case he comes after you again. I can't lose my best ally."

"I can handle it," Bianca snapped.

"I didn't say you couldn't. But I know my brother; I know what he's capable of. My only concern was your safety which would be vastly improved in my company."

Bianca settled back, her eyes showing the determination she felt at having to prove herself, having to show him that she held no signs of weakness, that she was as skilled as he believed her to be.

"I don't need a protector," she said. "I can look after myself. I got through the last one unscathed, didn't I?"

"Mr Halliwell, there you are!" a middle-aged brunette woman said, poking her head out the door. "I was wondering where you got to. You're not usually this late. The new staff are inside if you'd care to join us."

Not even giving the woman a second glance as he looked over Bianca's face, he stepped back, shifting his jaw slightly as he silently agreed to what she wanted. Turning towards the woman in the doorway, he followed her inside, leaving Bianca on the front stoop. Bianca watched him go inside, her gaze shifting back to the empty blank space before her where he had been standing. Glancing around quickly to ensure she wasn't noticed, she shimmered back to her apartment, heading into the kitchen to brew up some coffee – thinking that it may be a long night ahead if she was going to have to keep watch. The minutes that passed did not even reach double figures before a stream of orbs entered her living room, the blue light shining straight through into the kitchen where she was. Turning to look out the doorway, placing everything on the counter before she went to the opening, she saw standing in front of her not Wyatt, as she had expected, but Chris.

"This doesn't give me any kind of assurance that you're not following me," Bianca said, placing her hand on the doorframe and leaning against it.

"Is Wyatt here?" he asked, inspecting the interior with paranoia.

"No."

"Good, that gives us a chance to talk."

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say," Bianca said, turning back into the kitchen.

"You don't think it's possible I'm telling the truth?" he asked, stepping into the doorway.

"Not in the slightest," Bianca replied, spinning the mug in her hands over the countertop. She looked up to him. "And I'm not interested in your personal vendettas."

"Is that all you think this is about? Sibling rivalry?" Chris questioned. Bianca kept staring but didn't answer him. Chris took the silence as a sign of agreement. Rolling his eyes he said mockingly: "He really has brainwashed you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Bianca snapped, pushing past him to get into a larger area, the small kitchen now feeling more than claustrophobic.

"Then why do you help him? Is he holding something over you?" Chris queried.

"No."

"I can't think of how else he's controlling you."

Bianca froze at the word. Wyatt was not Michael; he was never going to be Michael. She was never going to let anyone manoeuvre her life or tell her what to do ever again. Her face grew sterner and her eyes darkened as she looked back to Chris.

"He is _not _controlling me," she said in a low, angry tone.

"So a smart, sexy woman like you is just hanging with him for kicks?"

"You don't know anything about it."

"After following you guys around for months, I think I do," Chris stated matter-of-factly. "Never once have I seen you stand up to him or dispute his decisions."

"I do what I'm paid to. That doesn't include offering opinion, whether I agree or not."

"There you go, submissive lackey. You've proved my point."

Turning towards him completely, she fired up an energy ball in her hand, its blue edges sparking alight as if she held a spherical piece of lightning in her palm. Her expression determined, she showed nothing other than fury for his words and his intrusion on her private residence.

"I've given you enough time to explain yourself. Leave."

"Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up.

He attempted to say something further, but Bianca stepped forward and made a move as if to throw the ball from her hand. Instinctively stepping backwards, Chris did as she asked and orbed out. Even though she doubted he would return, at least not tonight, Bianca still decided upon having the coffee she had been making, feeling the need to stay awake and be aware for the next few hours.

* * *

"Bianca?"

Bianca looked up at Wyatt, dropping her hand down from her forehead through her hair. The sun beat down from an open sky above them, and she had to squint by the time her gaze reached his face.

"Something the matter?" he asked with concern.

"No, not really," she answered. "My head hurts from thinking."

"About?"

"Things."

"What things?"

"You value my opinion, right?" she questioned.

"Of course," Wyatt agreed.

"So if I told you not to do something, you wouldn't?"

She looked at him expectantly. Furrowing his brow, he stared down at her from where he was standing.

"What is this about? Did I do something?" he asked in a slightly offended tone.

"No, nothing. Don't worry about it." Looking ahead of her, she used the heel of her boot to kick the dirt underneath her feet at the base of the large rock she had chosen to sit on. "I really hate this lying in wait game."

"Have some patience, you'll be able to do something soon enough."

Sighing, Bianca kept watch across the ground, almost tempted to tell Wyatt to take a seat next to her. They seemed to be waiting forever. She wasn't expecting anything to happen. After a little while she saw a figure rounding the hill.

"Someone's coming," she said, almost as if in warning.

Pushing herself up from the rock, she raced towards the figure, instantly flashing an athame into her hand without a second thought. The figure approaching her was not scary; in fact he looked quite normal… well as normal as one could be stumbling around the desert in a business suit.

"Bianca!" Wyatt called after her, not a shout of concern, but more of an order to stop, and she almost did but the thought suddenly crossed her mind that if she did she would be letting him control her, effectively proving Chris right. Instead she picked up her pace. "Bianca!"

Continuing forward, her face setting into a determined glare as she moved her thoughts to the job, she only slowed once she reached the man, manoeuvring herself into position and thrusting the athame into the man's belly, yanking her arm back and watching him fall to the ground. She glanced at her palm only briefly to see it stained with fresh blood. It was enough of a glimpse to remind her who she was, and what she was born to do. Feeling the anger building inside of her, she lifted her head to see there were more coming. Wyatt was right; they didn't have to wait long. Hearing orbs beside her, she knew she wouldn't even have to look to see that Wyatt had joined her. Doing so as a precautious measure, she saw what appeared to be something of a reflection as another stream of orbs settled onto the rocky enclosure in the distance where she and Wyatt had been only moments ago. Giving herself more initiative to prove she knew what she was doing and did what she wanted, Bianca shimmered towards the largest group, reappearing in the middle and delivering a swift kick to her side. Crouching down low to avoid an overhead swing at her as she recovered, she pushed herself forward, balancing as she pivoted and swept her outstretched leg behind her, knocking down a few more assailants. Both her head and body flying back from a kick delivered low to her blind side, Bianca barely had time to push herself back up off the ground before she saw an energy ball take out the attacker. Instead of being happy that Wyatt had helped her, she became more angered at her vulnerability and at not being able to do this herself.

Climbing to her knees, she reached forward towards another man, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back towards her, wedging her foot underneath his body as she rolled back, carrying him over herself, hearing a satisfying crack as he landed head first on the ground. Rolling to the side, she pushed herself up, seeing what few remained had now set their sights on Wyatt. Powering up a series of energy balls, she threw them one after the other at the group, succeeding in hitting three of the five. The fourth disappeared, emerging behind her and grabbing her waist. Throwing her elbow back, she twisted her leg around the back of his, tripping him up, almost losing her own balance as she did so. Glancing over to see Wyatt with his fist clenched, his other hand steadying the man before him as he tried to choke the life out of him, she raced towards them, scooping up her dropped athame on the way and plunging it into the man's back. But she couldn't stop just there, she had to keep going, she needed to satisfy the craving – the urge to kill, the quench for blood. Grabbing the man by the hair, she yanked his head back in a harsh manner, drawing the blade across his throat. Wyatt, both stunned and aggravated, lowered his fist as he glared at her, unable to comprehend why she had attacked and finished someone he already had a good handle on, effectively stealing his right to extinguish the man's life.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Stepping over the fallen body, she gave it a swift kick backwards to create enough room for her to stand right in front of Wyatt. "What does it look like?"

"I had that under control."

"So?"

Wyatt's composure darkened. "You work for me, remember? Not the other way around."

Raising the athame to his throat and pressing the sharpened edge of the blade against his skin, Bianca used the flat to lift his chin.

"Want me to slice your throat too?" she queried.

Although angered, Wyatt remained calm as he studied her face, trying to decipher what had brought on such violence, the thoughts ticking over in the back of his mind how exactly to diffuse her without spilling his own blood.

"Don't try to raise the intensity," he said rationally.

Staring him down for a few minutes, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as her breath kept up its own anxious pace, she removed the athame from its position, only slightly nicking his skin as she pulled it away and dropped her hand to her side, looking away from him as she did so. She had pushed herself too far, she had done too much, and now she knew she'd reached a level she couldn't come back from. Much like the old days where she had been trying too hard to prove she could be a true Phoenix, she had taken herself to the brink and she knew of only one way to come down from those dizzying heights.

Shimmering away from Wyatt to the rocky alcove, she grabbed Chris and shimmered him back to the motel room which had been her home for quite some time two years ago. It didn't look any different than it had when she'd stayed there, only this time there were actually other occupants inside.

"Get out!" she demanded, seeing the frightened looks on their faces as they inched towards the door, two sets of eyes falling upon the energy ball forming in her hand. "Now!"

Escaping through the door at her last shout, narrowly missing being hit by the energy ball as it flew towards the door, knocking it closed and searing the lock into the wall socket, the damage so great it was highly likely the door would never be opened again unless someone took to it with an axe. As if to doubly ensure the protection against interruption, she lifted her arm in a sweeping motion with a few urgent, quietly spoken words that would encase the room with a kind of barrier that not even magic could penetrate. Turning her gaze predatorily back to Chris, he took a step back as she stalked towards him, wondering what exact torture she had planned for him.

"Bianca," he said calmly, barely able to get her name out before she brutally pushed him back onto the bed. Crawling his way back up the mattress as she climbed over him, he felt his terror rise, seeing how violent she had been only moments ago.

"Don't think I didn't see you watching. Did I prove your little theory wrong?" she questioned mockingly.

"Bianca, calm down," Chris urged, scared to endure whatever painful infliction she was about to impose. Trying to lift himself up, he felt her hand solidly placed on his chest, pushing him back down as she slid further up his body.

"That was never what you were looking for anyway," she said.

"Bianca, what…" Chris stopped, looking curiously up at her face, seeing not hatred there but lust as she lowered herself quickly to his lips, ensnaring them with her own. Her hands slid up his neck to his face, holding it in place as her kisses became more fervent and impassioned, Chris still trying to grasp what was happening. "I didn't…"

"Shut up," she said huskily, breaking only slightly for air. "Just shut up."

Pressing her lips back to his, she shifted her body slightly to get to the button of his jeans, popping it undone with one hand, her other sliding behind his head to pull him more towards her. Running her hand back up under his shirt, her palm gliding over his skin, she pulled back, looking at his face as she moved both hands to grab hold of his jeans and yank them off.

"What are you doing?" Chris asked, although he had a fairly good idea that he knew where this was heading.

"What does it look like?" she returned heatedly.

"Like you're taking my clothes off," he responded with a smirk.

"I thought I told you to be quiet."

"You did. I just don't listen to rules very well," Chris stated.

Her desire overwhelming any other sense she had, Bianca moved forward again to kiss him, feeling as if she couldn't get enough of his lips. Chris' hands now brushing along her sides, she pulled away quickly. Seating herself on his waist, Bianca's hands moved to the bottom edge of her top, grabbing the hem and lifting it up and over her head.

"You don't have to do this, Bianca," Chris said. "You don't need to prove anything to me."

Tilting her head to the side, her long hair falling across her bare shoulders and chest, she looked down on him with both awe and wonder, and almost non-comprehension at what he was saying.

"Don't you want me?" she asked simply.

His gaze travelling down her half-naked form, and back up to her face, drinking in the entire appearance of the woman on top of him, Chris licked his lips in contemplative thought.

"I never said that," he answered finally.

"Good," she commented, taking it as a sign to remove what clothing had yet to be discarded from their bodies onto the floor.

Her lips found their way to his again, kissing him ardently once more as she slid herself into position. Straightening up, she placed her hand on his stomach to balance herself as she raised her body slightly, coming back down where she needed to be. Feeling him securely inside her now, she began to move slowly, watching his face to ensure she was doing more than just satiating her own need. Her skin tingled as Chris' hands rested on her thighs, and she wasn't sure that he was absolutely conforming until they travelled up to the tops of her hips, his fingers digging firmly into her skin as his own pleasure heightened. He lifted one of his own hands to the back of her head, pulling her back towards him until their lips met again. Devoid of feeling, she was lost in the need of wanton gratification, her muscles tightening up as she reached the point she had longed for, crying out at the release. Chris followed shortly, satisfaction resting on his face as she pushed herself away. He turned his head to the side, seeing her gather her clothes and pull them back on.

"You're going to run away now?" he asked.

"You don't need me anymore," Bianca said, scooping her shirt up into her hands. "You got what you wanted."

Chris turned, propping himself up on his arm as he stared at her in surprise and confusion. She was the one who had started this. She was the one who had kidnapped him and thrown him onto the bed, and yet she was trying to make out as if he was the one who had initiated the entire event.

"Hey, I never asked for this," he said. "But I never asked you to leave either."

"I'm not hanging around for seconds," Bianca argued. Glaring at him, she added: "Don't start thinking I'm some cheap whore, 'cause I'm not."

"I don't. I think you're beautiful and amazing," Chris said. Bianca didn't want to hear it; she didn't want to have her heart crushed again. Continuing to stare at him as she tried to determine whether any truth lay behind those words, her eyes followed his hand as he stretched it towards her. "Stay."

Hesitantly taking his hand, she took a step towards him as he pulled her back, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at their joined hands as if it was something foreign. Chris lifted his arm and wrapped it around her waist, pulling her back towards him, shifting so that she had space to lie down as her head fell onto the pillows. Letting go of her hand shortly, he ran his own over her hair, combing it back behind her shoulder, kissing her cheek and her shoulder before resting behind her again, his arm drifting back down to her waist. She'd never been held before, never felt the comfort that Chris was giving her now, just to be able to lie in his arms without worry or fear because here she felt secure. For the first time things felt as they should be. She found it strange but reassuring. Closing her eyes, she found for the first time in a very long time she was able to quickly drift off to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

**2024 **_cont._

Bianca opened her eyes, blinking a few times to try and clear her vision, rubbing the heel of her hand tiredly against them before she was able to fully focus. Realising where she was, remembering what had happened, she turned quickly to look at the other side of the bed. It was empty. The curtain flapped against an open window. Dropping her head disappointedly back onto the pillows, she lifted her hand to her head, running her fingers back through her hair.

She knew she shouldn't have trusted him. She couldn't believe she had let her feelings get the better of her. She had blocked them for so long, afraid to submit to a disaster like this, afraid she was going to get hurt. It was the very reason she had tried to leave – she knew it meant nothing to him and she didn't want to feel that sense of abandonment again. If she left first, she wouldn't, yet he had convinced her to stay, only so she could feel the heartbreak all over again.

She worried that she had just thrown everything completely away – her pride, her defiance, her sanity, her security. It was likely that Wyatt would no longer want her around either, not after the way she acted, not after threatening his life. Because that was the way things always were – no-one wanted her unless they knew they'd get something out of it. She'd always been, and always would be, the least important thing to everyone she knew.

Turning back onto her stomach, she buried her face into the pillow, trying to keep from crying long suppressed tears. It was only then she heard footsteps to the side of the bed.

"Morning," the voice said. Lifting her head, she looked at Chris with astonishment. His hair ruffled and wet, it was obvious he had been hiding out in the bathroom the whole time. He gave her a casual shrug in response to her look. "What? Thought I'd use the facilities while we're still here."

"No, I… you didn't go," Bianca said, trying to explain her reaction. "I thought you left."

"Well, I did think about breakfast," Chris said, his gaze drifting thoughtfully to the roof before returning to Bianca as she sat up. "But I thought you're human, you eat, and maybe you'd want to join me."

Sitting on the bed, he smiled, encouragingly placing a hand on her leg. Feeling uncomfortable, and completely unaccustomed to this kind of friendly behaviour, Bianca pulled her legs away from him, her eyes consistently searching for a reason on his face as to why he had stayed.

"I'm not hungry," she said, her defensiveness rising to the surface again.

"Sure, and I'm the President of the United States," Chris mocked. "You had to have worked up an appetite after all you did last night."

Bianca closed her eyes as if it were some horrid memory she didn't want to be reminded of. It only served to remind her of the way she had screwed things up, every visual coming back in bright, clear detail. She looked at Chris.

"I have to go somewhere," she said.

Chris looked at her sadly. "You're going back to him, aren't you?"

"I need to see if I'm still employed, otherwise I don't eat at all."

Reaching forward, he took her hand in his. This time she didn't pull away. Somehow it felt nice, and seeing the worry on his face somehow aided that pleasant feeling.

"Later then," Chris urged. "Meet me at the park. There's a memorial garden on the west side near the Conservatory of Flowers. Wait by the angel statue so we can talk." Bianca's expression was doubtful, but Chris remained persistent. Looking straight into her eyes he added: "I do want to see you again."

Licking her lips, she nodded in agreement. "Two-thirty then. That should be enough time."

Seeing Chris smiling at her, Bianca couldn't help but curve her lips a little in the same fashion, watching him orb out and leaving her alone. Bowing her head, she took a deep breath to compose herself before shimmering to Wyatt's place. His head in his hands, he looked up as she greeted him.

"You took your time," he said accusingly. "Where were you?"

Bianca looked him over, unsure of how to phrase it, unable to tell him what had really happened – exactly how Chris had been the cause, how she had spent the night with him, how she had succumbed to primal needs and almost killed Wyatt because of it. She didn't know what to say in response, so she simply looked away.

"Look, I don't care if you were down in the Underworld slaying every last demon you could get your hands on. I just wanted to know you were okay."

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

"Bianca, look at me," Wyatt requested. She obediently turned her eyes up towards him. "I don't want to have to worry about you. The threat to me is greater when my brother is around. I don't want him fighting you whenever he sees you."

Bianca looked away guiltily, knowing their last encounter had been completely the reverse. She swallowed hard, realizing that if she kept this quiet, ashamed approach up, she was never going to achieve what she had come for. Lifting her head, she looked him straight in the eye, trying to sink back into that emotionless persona she had held for so long.

"I needed to show you the proficiency of my skills, and I'm sure I accomplished that," she explained. Wyatt looked at her curiously.

"That wasn't necessary. I haven't lost faith in you, Bianca."

Somehow the comment made her feel better. If he hadn't thought she'd done anything wrong or out of the ordinary, then why should she?

"I'll try not to lead my attacks to you next time," Bianca said. It was half an apology, and half a gamble that she had presumed right and he was keeping her on.

"Yes, I'd hate to think I'd end up with more than a scratch," Wyatt said, his hand rising to his throat to gently brush the cut with his fingertips.

"Maybe we should ease up a bit on what we're doing," she suggested.

"If that will help, then I will," Wyatt offered. "We have an eternity to make things right. I'm sorry if my impatience has pushed you too far."

"No," Bianca said, shaking her head. "It wasn't you. Just the rush of it all. I pushed myself further than I should have to prove something that was already known."

"I'm glad to hear that's all it was. I would hate to think that was how a Phoenix employs her resignation. I'm sure I have treated you fairly enough for you not to leave me for someone else's company."

Biting her lip, Bianca lowered her eyes again. No matter what he meant, his words kept unintentionally striking at the heart of the matter, at the hidden details of what she was not telling him. How could she hide her guilt at what she had done? How could she keep brushing over her disappearance without knowing if Chris would give it all away? She had to trust someone, but now she didn't know where to place it. The only person she thought she could solely trust was herself, but she'd so easily ruined that the previous night.

"There is purpose behind everything," she said, looking back up at him. Wyatt sighed. This time it was he that looked away.

"And we shouldn't let some meaningless diatribe from my brother affect us," he said. "He has neither the skills, power nor influence to infuse his incessant ramblings into others minds until the point where he can be perceived as an idealized threat."

"So what do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Scour around, see what impact he has made. I'm certain it'll be little to none; he does tend to take most things completely on his own shoulders. Every Halliwell is stubborn, their pride far too great to ask for help."

"Does that include you?" Bianca queried, knowing she was overstepping a personal mark.

His eyes meeting hers, she saw so many unanswered questions reflected in his gaze, saw the pain of memories long forgotten that she kept pushing to bring forward, saw the same resistance she had been showing him at not revealing everything but still longing to do so.

Taking a deep breath, he turned away, giving her a last parting order. "Don't forget to check in."

Thinking it a wise idea to find out more about Chris under the guise of Wyatt's orders, Bianca shimmered down to the Underworld to source information. She realized, once down there, she had very little contacts anymore. Mostly everyone she knew had some affiliation with Wyatt, and those that did not probably presumed her dead since communication had ceased years ago. She discovered people either didn't know Chris, or wanted to kill him for attempting to throw over their evil plans. She heard it so frequently she began to wonder exactly which side she was on. She found she didn't have to use extreme violence; just the use of Wyatt's name struck them with fear and paranoia.

She found the time easily drifted into the afternoon, and with Wyatt under the impression she was still down in the Underworld, it was a simple task to pull away and meet Chris in Golden Gate Park. She located the garden easily enough, passing by the big dome of the Conservatory of Flowers and heading down towards the enclosed area, the angel statue standing just off to her right. Moving towards it, she lightly placed her hand against the cold stone, half expecting a trap, half expecting Chris to pop out from behind it and surprise her, but neither scenario eventuated.

Stepping back, she looked up at the pale figure to see it was almost twice her height. Her gaze traveling down to the small plaque at the bottom, she read over the inscription to bide her time. Hearing orbs behind her as her eyes fell upon the last few words, she turned.

"Sorry," Chris said, smiling apologetically. "You weren't waiting long, were you?"

Bianca shook her head. "Just got here."

"Are you going to listen to me now?"

Bianca turned her head away, setting her jaw before looking back to him irritably. "What do you want from me?"

"Understanding," Chris answered.

"I'm not someone you can fuck around with and screw over. I'm not playing messenger between you and your brother."

Chris sighed, his gaze dropping in a defeated manner. Hearing her step to the side as if she were about to walk away, he thought he had to quickly try another approach.

"Let me show you something," he said.

"What?" she asked, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"Look where you are," Chris said. Her eyes quickly skimmed over the place as she turned back towards the exit, not particularly looking at anything. "Do you see what's here?"

"This is stupid," Bianca remarked.

"No, it's not," Chris insisted. Walking around to stand in front of her, he placed his hands on her arms. "Open your eyes, Bianca."

"All I see is you," she said.

"Look past that," Chris urged. Turning her towards the garden, he led her further into it. "There is beauty here. There is life and growth. This is what you guys are destroying. You're leaving people with nothing. This is what should be admired, not power and destruction. Half the city has been devastated by Wyatt's exploits. You can't let it keep happening."

A light breeze brushed across her shoulders and through her hair as she stared at the bed of flowers before her. It was indeed beautiful, but she knew it was also trivial. They couldn't help what fell to ruins in their battles. They were reprimanding the people, not intentionally obliterating the landscaping. He pulled her back to face him, turning to the side to point out the Conservatory of Flowers, its large dome peaking over the rise.

"Did you know that was destroyed in nineteen ninety-five? They had a massive storm here. It blew apart the dome and most of the building caved in. Do you know how long it took them to fix it? Nearly a decade, Bianca. That's a whole generation who has had to live without it. A whole group of kids who had to grow up looking at nothing but construction. Do you really want that? To make all the kids living in this town see nothing but barricades and bloody bodies everyday? To deprive them of any kind of freedom because their parents are too frightened to let them outside?"

"We're not doing that," Bianca said defensively. She didn't want to think she was caging people in, just as the Phoenix had done to her. She didn't want to admit to being anything like that.

"Oh, no?" Chris questioned. "Do you want me to show you?"

Quickly Bianca shook her head. If he showed her, then it would be real, then she would be no better than the others of her kind, the ones she had spent so long evading.

"Look, I can't tell you what you already know, Bianca. What he's doing is wrong, and if you believe that as well you would leave him."

"I can't," she protested.

"Why not?"

Her eyes shifted away from his as she licked her lips, trying to find a way to explain her reasons without explaining her past, to give an answer which wouldn't prompt anymore questions.

"He's my livelihood."

"Right, you work for him, he pays you. But what with, Bianca? Blood money and stolen items? All he does is take – lives, possessions – he's just greedy. He wants everything for himself, and he'll just keep scaring and killing people until he gets it. He's always been that way, Bianca. His whole life he's just taken things away. He doesn't care about anyone except himself."

Staring at Chris as the words slowly sank in, she knew she couldn't argue Wyatt's generosity, not when she had 'assisted' in so many of those missions to steal (_reclaim_) and murder (_administer justice_).

"What can I do? I can't stop it. I can't piece together what's been lost and make it all better again. It's in the past, Chris, and it's about time you realise there's no changing that."

"What about the future? Our future. Bianca, help me, please. You know there's only strength in numbers. You have the power to change this. If you can't leave him, help me help him. Help me change the way he is so he can't hurt anyone else."

"He's not as dangerous as you think he is," Bianca said, using the last amount of argument she had left in her.

"No, he's worse. He has so many powers at his disposal. You think this is the worst, Bianca? It's only the beginning. We're only at the start of what he intends to do."

Bianca shrugged uncomfortably. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Fight him. Not physically, that's too dangerous for you. Just… question what he's doing. Don't let him have it easy."

"I did that before and look where I ended up."

Her eyes downcast, Chris gently reached out and brushed her cheek with his hand. Looking up to him, she could see the care in his eyes, something that had been so blank and void with Michael. Closing her eyes, she leant slightly into his palm, absorbing the warmth and comfort that lay in his touch.

"I'm not going to pretend it's simple," Chris said softly. "I just want you to be careful."

Opening her eyes, she moved forward hesitantly, her lips brushing Chris' as she kissed him. Applying a little more pressure, Chris kissed her back. It was then she realised that the previous night hadn't been a one time thing, that Chris genuinely cared about her and she him, and that he wasn't going to use her for his own devices as Michael had. This was something he wanted to work together on, and be together with her at the same time.

"What can I do for you?" she asked quietly as she pulled back.

"The book. Can you get to it? I don't really know what's in it, but I think we'll need it. My family always went to it when they were in trouble. There has to be something in there, something I can use or do to put up some barriers, to make him see what he's doing."

"Okay, first the book, and then," sighing, she looked at Chris, "we change Wyatt."

She couldn't believe there was anything bad enough about Wyatt that it required a desperately planned attempt to change him, but she knew how much truth lay in what Chris had said and she couldn't deny the things that they had done. Chris nodding sorrowfully in agreement, she shimmered herself back to Wyatt's apartment.

"So what did you find out?" Wyatt asked, his hand temporarily stopping halfway down the blade of his sword, the soft rag bunching up under his fingers.

"About Chris?" Bianca questioned, her gaze flicking down to the sword, her breath catching slightly as she tried not to panic and imagine he had pulled it out to attack her. He nodded, rolling his eyes slightly at the absurdity of the enquiry. "Not much. Everyone wants to kill him just as badly as you do."

His shoulders shaking as he gave a short laugh, he shook his head lightly at Bianca. "I never said I was going to kill him. Teach him a lesson, maybe, but he hasn't done anything bad enough to be punished for. He's just an irritable nuisance, that's all."

"There are enough demons down there who are convinced otherwise," Bianca said. "You should take what he says seriously, Wyatt. Don't underestimate what he's capable of."

She could see something in his expression that recognised her words as one of warning, as if she held some extra knowledge he was not aware of. She knew it was because of the conversation she had just had, but she could only deduce that he thought she was talking about what she had found out in the Underworld. Not wanting to accept the possibility of his brother becoming a major rival, Wyatt returned to polishing his favourite weapon. Bianca turned and began heading towards his bedroom. Looking up quickly, Wyatt placed his sword to the side, getting up and following her through the doorway.

"What are you doing? I didn't order you to my bedroom," Wyatt said with confusion.

Bianca couldn't help but smirk as she looked back to him. "I didn't ask for an invitation. Besides, I wanted to look at something again."

"Hmm… sword's in the living room," Wyatt said thoughtfully, subtly making the point he would prefer her not to be in his room snooping around.

"And as nice as your weaponry is, I was looking for something a little more… knowledgeable."

Her eyes falling upon the book in the cabinet, she crouched down to undo the latch, Wyatt dropping beside her and pushing the glass door closed before she could even get it partway open. Annoyed and a little bemused, she looked over to him, her hands still on the edge of the latch.

"No," he scolded.

"Why can't I?" she asked defiantly.

"Because it's not yours," Wyatt said, rising again, his eyes still locked on her. "And because you've already seen it. Once is enough for someone who doesn't need to use it."

"What if we do?" Bianca asked, standing again. "What if the threat to what we're doing is so great that something needs to be put right? If things keep going this way, there's not going to be a future for us to live in. The world is falling apart around us. There has to be something else we can do to balance it out, something more than what we're doing now."

"I'm not submitting to any kind of authority or higher power," Wyatt said disagreeably. "I know what we have accomplished has served for a greater purpose. We have done everything that we can to break free from the devastation around us, from the restraint and ill will. The world is going to ruin of its own accord. Try if you must, Bianca, but I won't help you in this heedless mission. Nor will my family's legacy."

Waving his hand, Bianca turned back to see the Book of Shadows disintegrating into small blue and white orbs, drifting up and out of the cabinet, past her figure and towards the ceiling before evaporating altogether. Sighing with defeat, she looked back to Wyatt, biting her lip anxiously. She didn't know what else she could do; she had no idea where he'd just sent the one thing she needed, and on top of all that he now thought she was a reckless fighter who, through her own delusions, was going to intentionally sabotage all that they had worked for.

"Are you going to hide everything from me now?" she asked painfully. She couldn't lose his trust, not now, not after so many years. It was the only thing she could be certain of, the only thing to fully guarantee her safety.

"I never intended on it. But if you're going to play games and hold things back from me, I don't see why I should return the favour and tell you everything whilst you're being so secretive."

"I just want to make things right."

"Who said they weren't? You're so doubtful, Bianca."

"Maybe I'm just scared. Afraid of what this'll turn into, of what we'll become."

"There's no change," Wyatt said, shaking his head. "Only improvement. Take some time to breathe. You are as good as you think you are; that's why I wanted you by my side. I couldn't count on anyone more than I do you."

Bianca was relieved to hear this more than anything, knowing for sure that Wyatt was not going to let her go on the slightest mistake. But his encouragement and words of kindness only served to make her feel guiltier about what she had been planning to do behind his back.

"I'll try to find another way," she said quietly. She meant it for herself, for her plans with Chris, but seeing Wyatt smile in response she knew he had taken it in the opposite way – as a sign she would help him, not hinder him.


	22. Chapter 22

**2025**

The gentle trill of a lone bird perched on her balcony reached Bianca's ears, her eyes opening to small slits as she roused. It was light outside, the sun's height in the sky indicating she had slept late. Lethargically moving her body, she realised her arm was draped over the side of the bed. Raising her hand onto the mattress, she attempted pushing herself up but found she was still too tired to do so. Turning her head on the pillow, she looked to the other side and saw a single red rose had been placed on the pillow next to her. Smiling happily she reached towards it, gently twirling the stem in her fingers, careful to avoid the thorns. Her reverie broke as the smell of smoke infiltrated her nostrils. Cautiously she lifted herself, without notice of fatigue this time, and dropped the rose back onto the pillow. Smelling the air, she was certain it was smoke and hurried out of bed to find the cause. She discovered it was coming from the kitchen, Chris beating the toaster frantically with a tea towel when she got to the door. Thinking rationally, Bianca stepped forward, flicking the switch on the power-point and pulling the plug from the socket. Turning to look at Chris, she smiled playfully.

"You trying to burn down my apartment now?" she teased.

"No," Chris said, glancing down at the blackened cloth in his hand before tossing it aside. "I was trying to treat you to breakfast, but I guess that surprise is ruined."

"Why don't we go for a safer option then?" Bianca suggested. "Bowls are in that cupboard, cereal is in the pantry."

Moving around Chris, she pulled the banana from the fruit bowl, peeling and throwing the skin into the bin behind her before glancing over at him as she placed the fruit on the cutting board, ensuring he had followed her directions. She saw his shirt rise a little as he reached up to the overhead cupboard for the bowls, smirking at the sight of his skin, pleasant memories playing over in her mind. Producing a knife, she turned her attention back to slicing.

"What are you doing here, Chris?" she asked as she raised and lowered the knife through the soft food. "It's too risky you being here, he could orb in any second."

"It's okay. I created a distraction."

"A distraction?" Bianca looked up at him quickly. Lifting the knife, she turned the blade flat so it lay horizontally in her hand, subconsciously jabbing the point towards him as she continued with concern: "You know he's going to expect me to be there."

Chris held up his hands, a somewhat disturbed, almost frightened look on his face as his eyes fixed on the knife. "Uh, can you put that thing away?"

"Oh, sorry," Bianca apologised, looking at the knife in her hand and then laying it aside. She had noticed over the month or so that had passed that Chris seemed to have an aversion to knives. She wasn't sure if it was because he couldn't trust her not to use it on him, or whether it was a deep-seated fear he had held long before she'd met him. "But I mean it Chris, the more diversions you create the busier he's going to be. The busier he gets, the more he's going to rely on me to be there, and if I keep going missing he's going to notice. Just let me handle it, okay?"

"I just wanted to see you," Chris said, pulling her against him, giving her a slight pout as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

A small flutter of a smile crossed her lips, showing she appreciated the thought but was still quite wary of the trouble they could be in. Wyatt didn't know about her and Chris, she'd never told him. Mostly because she was afraid of what his reaction would be, partially because she could envision their whole world crashing down around them, and also because their subtle influences to change him would suddenly have no effect if he thought they had joined forces to work against him.

"Let's just keep it to out spot, okay?" she requested, kissing his lips lightly before pulling away to finish assembling breakfast.

"How much longer are we going to go on with this?" Chris questioned.

"As long as we have to," Bianca said.

She picked up the bowls, shoving one into his hands as she passed him with her own. Looking at her curiously, Chris followed her into the dining room. Taking a seat across from her, Bianca could see the questioning gaze in his eyes. Softly she shook her head, indicating she didn't want to talk any more about the subject. Chris stirred the cereal in the bowl thoughtfully, his eyes looking back to Bianca as he relaxed against the chair.

"So, how about those Mariners?" he asked, lifting the spoon and crunching down on the contents as he watched Bianca return his inquiry with a questionable look on her face. Swallowing the mouthful of cereal, he looked at her innocently. "What? You don't want to talk about us, you don't want to talk about Wyatt, and we can't gossip or relay social experiences because you never go out. We can hardly act like a normal couple. Why can't we be like ordinary people and go to the movies or a baseball game?"

"Because we're not ordinary," Bianca retorted, glaring at him. "I have to do my job to survive, and I was hoping you could understand that. I didn't intentionally get caught up in this and I don't like you bringing it to my attention everyday as if it's my fault that everything's happening the way it is. I don't have the power to influence people or events and I'd appreciate it if you stopped making demands on me to do so."

"Bianca, look, I'm not trying to make you do anything, but what's happening here with us, and with Wyatt, that's the two most important things in our lives right now. It helps to talk about it."

"I don't want to talk about it," Bianca said defensively, shaking her head as she turned her attention back to the meal in front of her.

"Well I do," Chris retorted.

"Chris, stop pushing me!" she shouted, propelling herself back from the table.

Moving past him, she stopped uncertainly and combed her fingers through her hair, unsure of where to go, which direction to take to escape him. Finally she headed for her bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her. She had to busy herself, to keep her mind off thinking about the situation, to have one normal conversation that didn't involve the predicament she was in or the twisted state of her life right now. She opened up her cupboard then pulled open the drawer until she found the ocean blue top she was looking for, balling it up in her hands and looking towards the door as she heard movement on the other side.

"Bianca, open up," she heard Chris calling from outside. She could picture him standing on the other side, his hands in his pockets as he tiredly looked at the opposite face of the door. At least he was nice enough not to orb in. Instead of answering, she cast the top onto her bed and began looking for a pair of jeans. "C'mon, give me something to work with here."

Pulling up the zipper and buttoning up the fly she paused to look at the door again. Was she really being unreasonable? Couldn't she just have one normal morning without having to worry about everything that was happening? Sighing, she looked away from the door preferring to continue with her task of getting dressed whilst giving her blessing for him to enter.

"It's not locked," she said, sweeping the top into her hands and pulling it over her head, flicking her hair out at the back as he opened the door. If he wanted to talk about this then she would do so to rectify her part in it. "Where'd you send Wyatt?"

"He's down in the Underworld which is why I was telling you not to worry. He can't sense what's going on up here and vice-versa from here to down there."

"So you have absolutely no idea what's happening down there."

"No. Not really. I'm not concerned about him, I'm concerned about you," Chris said, care in his voice as he reached out towards her. His hands brushing her arms, she pushed him away.

"You don't even know what kind of danger you put him in! You sent him down there without anyone to keep an eye on him. How is this working to your plan, Chris? How? He could be doing something bad down there and you wouldn't even know about it, or even worse something bad could happen to him and then I'm out of a job! Don't you think things through? Has all the blood left your head and gone... elsewhere? You're only succeeding in distracting yourself. I'm going down there." Holding her hand up to him, one finger raised in a stilling gesture, she commanded: "You stay."

Shimmering down to the Underworld, she went straight for Wyatt's contacts to find his location. In just under an hour she finally succeeded in finding him, but by that time it was too late. He had his back to her, on his knees as enforced by the arrow buried in the back of one. Seeing the darklighter on her right, she powered up an energy ball and speared it towards him, watching as it consumed his being. Turning to the confidant witch who stood before Wyatt, she saw a bloodied heart in the woman's palm. Her heart leapt in fear, thinking it was Wyatt's, her mind reminding her of that old cliché of someone having their heart ripped from their chest and shown to them moments before they died. The distraction was enough to buy the woman the time she needed to finish her spell.

"Before the passing of this hour, take away this witch's power," the witch finished intoning.

She heard a bellow of protest from Wyatt, and it was this that snapped her back to attention, realising that he was still intact but now not only was he injured but also powerless. Before Bianca could make a move, the witch vaporized in a cloud of smoke, leaving her alone with Wyatt as he collapsed forward onto the cold, dirt ground.

"No, Wyatt," Bianca said, racing over to him and dropping down in front of him. He lifted his head to look at her, his face streaked with dirt and grime. She pushed her hair behind her ear as she looked into his vacant eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I may be down, but I'm not out. Don't go planning my funeral just yet," Wyatt said. Squeezing his eyes tightly as he felt another surge of pain, he shifted his arms until they sat in front of him and lay his forehead back down on his forearms.

Bianca softly placed her hand on his shoulder, shimmering them back to his apartment so that they both now rested on his bed. She looked down at the clean sheets and then at the dirt that covered him, not to mention the black liquid that seemed to be oozing out around the arrow's sheath.

"I think I owe you a laundry job," she half-joked.

"Pain relief..." Wyatt began, another cry of pain escaping his lips, "would be fine."

Bianca looked studiously at the arrow embedded in the back of his knee. It wasn't anything like a normal arrow, except for perhaps in shape. It appeared to be painted black, coated in some dark varnish, the point of contact progressively spreading underneath the tear in his jeans in a bruised and scarred state while what seemed not to be blood but some kind of crude oil ran in little streams down the sides of his leg that attached firmly to the fabric like a leech to skin.

"Break or yank?" Bianca questioned aloud.

"Neither. Not til you get something around your hands at least," Wyatt said. Bianca got up quickly, finding a swath of bandages and speedily winding the cloth around her hands. "That arrow's poisoned. I don't want you touching it without protection, even though it most likely won't affect you. The arrow's only partway in, it didn't make it straight through."

"Hold still," Bianca instructed, placing one hand on his leg as she wrapped the other around the sheath. Pressing down with her left, she pulled her right hand up, the gruesome exiting sound only covered by Wyatt's shout. Quickly Bianca moved to cover the wound. Wyatt knocked her hand away with his own, his glare met with her own look of surprise.

"You need to do a few things. As much as I like these jeans, you're going to have to tear them up for me or the infection will get worse," he ordered. A hollow laugh escaping his lips at the thought, Bianca looked at him as if he'd gone crazy. "Who am I kidding? I'm dying, right? That's what darklighter arrows were meant for."

"I'm not going to let you die," Bianca stated. "Tell me how to help."

"Well unless you know of a way to get this poison out of my body, you're going to have to find someone to heal me, and with seemingly both the forces of good and evil against me now, that's going to be a mighty hard task to accomplish. I don't know who you can trust."

"I think I know someone," Bianca said, watching as he wearily dropped his head back onto the pillow. "How long do you have?"

"Not long," came the muffled response.

Conjuring herself a blade sharp enough to rip through the fabric, Bianca steadily went to work on destroying his jeans until the wound was clearly exposed. It seemed to be getting worse by the second. Tentatively she placed a cloth over it, the white disappearing almost at once as it seeped up what lay on the surface. Placing another one over the top, she lifted his leg slightly as she wound the bandage around it, watching him with concern as he flinched but said no more to her.

Shimmering away, she successfully found Gazu, a sorcerer who owed her a favour or two and had the ability to heal. Bringing him back to Wyatt's apartment, she rushed into his bedroom and stopped short when she looked at his unmoving figure. He was as pale as a dead man, and for a full minute she believed he was dead, she was too late, and it was her fault that this had happened to him. But the slight rise of his body indicated he was still breathing, even if it was shallowly. She could barely hear him as she approached the bedside, kneeling down and looking over his body now glistening with beads of sweat.

"It's not too late, is it?" she asked, looking back up to Gazu. "I could never forgive myself. I wasn't there in time. I let him down."

Looking back to Wyatt, she cocked her head as she watched him with a worried expression on her face. The words she had said to Chris earlier, the fact she had known something like this would happen and she'd done nothing about it, kept playing over in her mind as the guilt settled in. If anybody was being distracted here, it was her, and all she was doing was hurting them both.

"He looks strong. With my help I'm sure he can fight it," Gazu answered, his hands roaming over the wound.

"Wyatt," she whispered, her fingers carefully brushing his long curls aside so she could see his face, so he could see her. "I'm going to get your powers, okay? I'm going to make this up to you."

He moved his head slightly, Bianca taking it as all signs of acknowledgement and agreement to what she had said before the lids closed as his blue eyes disappeared beneath them. Pushing her hands against her upper legs, she stood up and looked over to Gazu caught up in his own job with lights, powders and incantations. Seeing the concentration on the sorcerer's face, she knew he was trying the best that he could, she knew that if anyone was going to be able to do this, he was.

"I'll be back shortly," she said, shimmering out.

As she scoured the Underworld for information, she found that it was helpful to have seen the witch and what had happened. She could give each person she spoke with an accurate description of the woman, and her gruesome practices seemed to ring a few bells with some people. The spell she had used was something that was used by both good and bad witches, and with this knowledge she felt Wyatt had not been so accurate with his assumption that the witch who had stolen his powers had been a good one. By the end of the day, she had located the witch Brigid in her lavish lair, complete with reptilian accessories.

"Little cold down here for them, isn't it?" Bianca asked, observing the snakes writhing on the floor. Her gaze lifting to Brigid, she cocked her head as a smirk appeared on her face. "Haven't we met before?"

"My, my, my, it's the strong man's bodyguard," Brigid said, playing with her fingers idly as she approached Bianca. "I wouldn't have thought someone so powerful would hire such bad help. No wonder you were made an outcast to society."

Lighting up an energy ball, Bianca began to throw it towards the witch who casually lifted her fingers and redirected its path. Although not surprised that she had blocked her attack, Bianca was still enraged at Brigid's words and at her own inability to fight someone with Wyatt's powers. She had to think of a distraction, of a way that she could work around this and prevent herself from being killed. Conjuring herself a plank of wood, she ran at Brigid with it. Reflexively, Brigid fired up the shield around her body, knocking Bianca back to the ground, the wood sliding away from her. Although Brigid thought she now had the upper hand, Bianca had been working with Wyatt long enough to know that the shield took some time to come down.

"Is that the best you can do?" Brigid laughed. "A piece of wood?"

Bianca shimmered from the floor to the wall where she had earlier spied the flaming torches. "Wasn't for you, it was for them."

With one quick manoeuvre, Bianca ripped the torch from the wall and tossed it towards the plank of wood, towards where the snakes lay, their actions becoming more frantic as they fretted over whether to get closer or move away. One finally deciding the fire was a good idea; it wriggled closer, only to catch alight as well, the flames quickly spreading from one body to another.

"No!" Brigid shrieked, moving her hands frantically as she tried to find a power to stop the escalating death of her pets.

Bianca shimmered behind her, grabbing hold of her arm tightly, twisting the red locks of hair between the fingers of her other hand and yanking her head back. "We've got somewhere to be."

She shimmered them both to Wyatt's room, knowing there was a highly likely chance that she would be endangering him more, but this time she was confidant she could kill this witch. She had the upper hand. Whether that was before or after she took Wyatt's powers from her remained to be seen - it was all dependant on his condition for she couldn't just 'take' someone's powers without having an outlet to send them to.

"How is he?" she asked Gazu.

"He'll be fine."

"You hear that?" Bianca said to Brigid, pulling her head roughly to the side. "You inflict the worst kind of damage on him you can, and you still can't destroy him. Now say you're sorry."

"Bite me," Brigid responded, trying to break out of her hold.

"Don't invite me," Bianca retorted. She tugged harder. "Say it!"

"The only thing I'm sorry about is that we couldn't finish you off," Brigid spat towards him.

Wyatt rose weakly on the bed as Gazu made his exit from the room, his gaze flickering between Bianca and the red-haired witch she had in her grasp - the one who had attacked him before and taken his powers. He wasn't strong enough to try anything, but that thought easily gave way to the interest he held over what Bianca was going to do. He didn't have any idea what she had meant before, barely latching onto the words in his delirious state, and the only thing he could comprehend was that perhaps she knew some ancient spell to fix this. But what he saw he found certainly a whole lot more rewarding as Bianca buried her hand into the woman's back, the witch's shrieking likely to be heard from three buildings away. His eyes moved to Bianca's face, seeing that she was enjoying this; that this was something she allowed herself little opportunity to do. Certainly he had never seen her do this in the few years he had known her. Brigid dropped to her knees as Bianca withdrew her hand.

"Look who's kneeling now," Bianca seethed close to her ear as she positioned her hands around the woman's head, turning them slightly and hearing a satisfying crack as she broke the witch's neck. Letting go of Brigid's body, it fell in a dead heap on the floor. Bianca stepped towards Wyatt. "Now for you."

"I hope you're not intending on roughing me up the same way."

"From what I hear, it's actually quite enjoyable," Bianca said, placing her hands on his chest as she pushed him back against the bed.

He watched with increasing interest as she placed herself over him, withdrawing her hands slightly as she cupped them together, separating the fingers so that only the palms were now joined. He noted the shape had the remarkable appearance of wings, wings that blocked the sunlight that seemed to stream from around her hands.

_All that was gathered_

_Absorbed in whole_

_Leave my possession_

_Into this soul_

A white light sparked from the centre and Wyatt felt it enter his body. At first he envisioned it to be painful, but she was quite right when she had said that it was more enjoyable. It didn't hurt him at all. It only felt like the tiniest pinprick against his skin. Inside his body felt like a gigantic hole was being filled; a balloon filling with water, a void absorbing and containing the very warmth that made him real, complete and who he was.

"Bianca," he breathed, grabbing her wrists as the last of the power petered out, his eyes locked on hers.

"It's done," Bianca said, fear rising inside of her as she hastily pushed herself away. She was expecting to be punished, he in turn looking for something that was far the opposite.

"Don't leave," he said urgently.

Shaking slightly, her eyes glassy, she froze where she was and inspected him. How could she have put him in this state? Simply because she allowed Chris to take up her time, because he seemed to give her something which she needed - which everybody needed. He gave her love, but at what risk? Killing the only other person she cared about? Her life was beginning to fall into the same repetitive morbid cycle, and what could she do to stop it? What could she do to keep her world from being destroyed? Because certainly whatever it was she was doing now wasn't working. Whatever she was doing was threatening everyone, including herself.

"I'm not going anywhere. I just need to find a way to fix this," she said softly.

"I'm okay," he insisted, grimacing at the pain as he shifted himself up.

"You're not," Bianca said. "You're suffering because the world out there is threatened by you. They're scared of you. Now they're trying twice as hard to hurt you, and you're losing defence because I'm not there to help."

"Well be there," Wyatt insisted.

Biting her lip, she stared at him. He had no idea what was going on. He was an innocent party in all of this. Everything she was saying he was misinterpreting because he didn't know, and she was never going to tell him. She was never going to mention it to him, and she would never have to because she wasn't going to abandon him anymore.

"Give me some time and I will."


	23. Chapter 23

**2025 **_cont._

Chris was bored out of his mind. He had inspected every corner of the room until he could look at nothing but the television The amount of crap on cable was insane, and he switched the screen back off in the blink of an eye, watching the little dot disappear to nothingness again. He had spent hours here, waiting, doing as Bianca had told him and still she hadn't returned. He wondered what she could have been doing all this time. The idle thought struck him that maybe she had gone and got herself killed, but he pushed it quickly aside reassuring himself with the knowledge that she always took her frustrations out on the opponent she was fighting, and typically she was more lethal in that frame of mind. It was more likely she had slaughtered ten men since she'd left than had someone attempting to kill her.

Stopping by the side table he picked up the magazine that lay there and quickly flicked through it. He knew Bianca more than likely hadn't touched it, she never had the time and no doubt it only sat there for show, as some kind of indication of normality.

Bianca shimmered in in a walking stride. Heading straight for Chris, she stretched her arms out before her and roughly shoved him onto the couch. Caught by surprise, the magazine slipped from his hands and fluttered to the floor.

"What did you do?" Bianca demanded. "What the hell did you do?"

"What? Bianca… I… what are you talking about?"

"You set him up, didn't you? Didn't you?" she shouted. "I can't believe you tried to kill your own brother!"

"No, I'm not trying to kill him, I'm trying to rehabilitate him, remember?" Chris responded calmly. "Besides, I knew he could handle it."

"Handle a darklighter? Handle being shot like some rabid prey while his powers were taken from him?"

"Darklighter? What darklighter?" Realization dawning on him at what she was suggesting, he shook his head furiously. "No, I sent him after the Scarborough. Obviously I was right and he found them simple if he was off fighting someone else."

"But you sent him down there. You led him into the trap, and then you tried to keep me here. What is wrong with you, Chris? Are you that selfish? Do you hate him that much you only wish ill upon him? If I hadn't gone there to find him he would be dead right now."

"Honestly, I had no idea. Trust me, Bianca, I knew nothing about it."

"How can I believe you after what I just saw? After what I had to do?"

"It's not my fault!" Chris insisted. "Have some faith in me, in us, in what we're trying to do."

Slowly Bianca shook her head. Everything he said to her now sounded as if it was a lie. She'd been deceived once more, and she'd just let it happen. If it wasn't for her own good grace, her own rational nature, things could have been far worse than they were right now, but she knew the man seated before her was blatantly deceiving her, just as they all had.

"Faith is hopeless. Honesty is a myth. Trust is a misconception. You're the real cause behind all of this. It's because of you he's had to suffer."

Chris glared at her, now getting angry himself. "Don't you dare say that to me. Don't you ever assume that you know what our lives were like. He's the only one inflicting the suffering, just look around you."

"At least he's not doing it unfairly," Bianca spat.

"Bianca, will you listen to yourself? You're being unreasonable! Whatever you saw, whatever he told you, you're not thinking clearly."

"Oh, I'm thinking very clearly. It's over, Chris."

"No. Don't do this. Don't wreck what we have."

"It's the only way."

"It's not, Bianca. I care about you. Don't give up on us. I'm not going to let you get hurt."

"It's too late. You can't stop it. It'll happen anyway. Everyone I've ever cared about either betrays me or dies. What makes you think you're an exception?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Chris said, trying to be reassuring but knowing he had no answer to her question. Who knew just how dangerous this could get?

"You are. Get out," she said flatly. He looked at her, astonished. "Leave, before I throw you out!"

Unsteadily he got to his feet, watching her warily, unsure how serious her threat was. He stepped away from her. Rethinking his decision to just leave without saying anything, he turned to face her determinedly as he folded his arms.

"I don't know what the repercussions of all this are going to be, but you better be careful."

"As long as I don't have to see you again, I'm sure I'll be fine."

Their eyes locked heatedly on each other, Chris saw she was not about to give way on any argument. His warning only coming off as a threat, he knew he had to leave before things got worse, to give them both enough time to cool down before trying to reason with her again. Breaking the stare, he orbed out.

* * *

"Thank you everyone for coming here," Wyatt said, looking amongst the myriad of faces that stood in a scattered half-circle facing him. He mentally noted those that stood on the arc of the crescent, fear apt in their systems as they intentionally stood at the furthest point away from him. "As you may or may not have noticed, the number of foes appears to be increasing. We have become a cult of sorts, with the world uniting to fight against us. Unbelievably even those without power still view our demise as a trendy cause. It is through my own personal injury that some light has been shed upon a few things, the first of which is why I have called you all here today. There is a Judas in our camp, boys and girls. They know who they are. One who walks amongst us with the façade of a loyal follower masking their true deception."

A feeling of guilt flickered within Bianca for a moment. Directing her eyes towards him, she lifted her chin defiantly; her gaze hardening as she reminded herself that she had nothing to feel guilty over. She had severed her ties with Chris, had driven a wedge straight through the middle of their unbalanced relationship that had not had the opportunity to find flat and stable ground. Although she was unsatisfied with not having given it an opportunity to work, she knew this was the best way to deal with things, and was relieved that now she could be here for Wyatt. Yet his eyes held a burning gaze as he stepped towards her, and she began to feel as if he knew something she was unaware he did.

"This person I have trusted on far too many occasions," he continued. Stopping before Bianca, she looked up at him, her esteem giving way to terror as she became certain she had been caught out, that somehow he'd discovered her fling with Chris. "I feel the time has come for us to bond together like never before. Because of this, limits have to be set and people made examples of. The first to defy me shall suffer the consequences of their actions, and that person is you."

Wanting to face her punishment courageously but lacking the bravery to do so, Bianca shrank away as he reached forward, but to her surprise she found it wasn't her pulled into everybody's field of view but the demon who had been trying to slink away behind her.

"This, my friends, is the face of deception. Take a good look – a very long hard look. He was the one who organized the darklighter attack on me. He is the one who has been feeding information to the opposing side. Now he is the one who's going to pay the penalty for his treachery. He shall be the first victim of this rule."

Before anyone had a chance to do or say anything, before the demon had the opportunity to finalize his cries of protest, Wyatt vanquished him with one masterful blow. Where before he had cut an imposing authoritative figure, now he appeared as a vindictive vengeful monster. Not one person seemed safe from his wrath as his anger doubled.

"Let this be a warning to everyone here, to anyone who is even remotely contemplating the same. There is now a no tolerance policy on betrayal. If I see even one of you making moves in a direction I'm not fond of, then your actions shall be met with certain death. And believe me, it gets much worse than what you've just witnessed. You have no idea what I'm capable of. If you value your lives, then I'd advise you not to cross me."

As the others in the room readily agreed to Wyatt's demands, Bianca's gaze drifted to the darkened doorway and through the shadowed recesses of the room. In effect she was looking for Chris, for he always seemed to be lurking around at such important moments as this. This was a warning he needed to heed. She, on the other hand, was beginning to feel perfectly safe. Wyatt did not suspect her of anything, and although her assumption of Chris had been wrong, she still felt justified in what she had done. She had made things right, although she had let a month slip by after that moment of weakness. She wasn't inclined to do any great misdeeds as Wyatt had suggested ever again.

"Bianca," Wyatt said sternly. She jolted; unaware he had stopped in front of her again. He turned his head in the direction she had been staring. "What are you looking at?"

"Keeping an eye out for eavesdroppers," she answered quickly. It was, in part, a true statement and she knew he would be pleased by this action.

"I don't see anything," Wyatt said, his gaze switching back to her. "But you were always smart enough to think of something like that. Everybody could take a leaf out of Bianca's book, she knows what she's doing and how to act appropriately."

The comment was met by a few jealous stares, but Bianca remained composed despite knowing the wrongs she had committed. She watched as Wyatt, tired of the nonsense and lacking belief in his troops, masterfully waved them all away. He watched, waiting as one by one they left in an array of various transportive ways until Bianca was the only one left in the room.

"Thank you for looking out for me," he said kindly. He lifted his hand but thought better of it; his palm slightly brushing her arm as he quickly lowered it to his side again.

"I can't have been much help," Bianca returned. "I didn't even know Amos had anything to do with that darklighter."

"Even so, you still remain aware. Everybody plays their own part in this game. I'm grateful to have someone with your skill and perseverance on my side."

"As confidant as you are in my abilities, you don't have to hold me in such high regard."

"In comparison to the others, I do. There's something special in you in both head and heart. An immeasurable belief in what is worthwhile, a spark that alights when you are imbued with a cause. I see only dullness and compliance in the others. You have the kind of passion that intrigues me. You provide me with the hold when things start slipping. Forever I shall be indebted to the help you have given me. I'm glad to have found you and thankful for the years we've had to build on this."

Her eyes crossed his face. He had given her so much during that time, a sign of salvation when she had lost everything. Was it not right that she should feel the same? Shouldn't she feel appreciative for everything that he had done?

She heard a sound behind her and whipped around quickly. Instinctively she fired up an energy ball, not at all stunned to see Chris stumble into the room.

"Why am I not surprised?" Wyatt remarked. "Intercept a memo, did we Chris?"

"Yeah. And either I'm incredibly early or extremely late."

"That would be the latter."

"What's she still doing here then?" Chris questioned.

"Oh, did you miss that discussion too?" Wyatt said sarcastically. "Too bad. Go ahead, Bianca, take your shot."

Bianca pitched the energy ball at Chris, watching as he fleetingly ducked out of the way. It was a purposeful near miss. She may have felt bitter towards him, but she didn't want to kill him.

"You're lucky. She doesn't usually miss," Wyatt informed Chris as he straightened.

"Must be," Chris said, his eyes following Wyatt's every move before he shifted his gaze to Bianca. There was something different in her eyes now, a minor glimpse of dissuasion but not the pure hatred she had held before.

"What do you want, Chris?" Wyatt asked. "Meeting's over, and it appears that you've failed to take notice of the warning signs that your presence is not wanted nor required here."

Still keeping Bianca within his sights, Chris looked back to Wyatt. His brother had taken a few steps closer to him and enlarged the distance between he and Bianca. Chris was almost tempted to orb behind him and just grab her, but he knew she wouldn't put up with that, and besides she had called it off, from what he could gather it was simply to lay her loyalty down to Wyatt.

"I want to know what's so important about you," Chris demanded childishly. Wyatt laughed. "Why are you keeping a death grip on everyone?"

"Oh and here I was thinking you needed to be reminded of the twice-blessed child prophecy again. That can hardly be forgotten."

"Maybe not to you," Chris said sourly.

"He is leading us towards a better world," Bianca spoke firmly. Chris looked as her uncomprehendingly, amazed to hear her say such a thing after all they'd discussed. "You haven't got any right to intervene. Get out of here, Chris, or next time I won't miss."

Shaking his head, Chris turned and headed back out the way he'd come in. Wyatt approached Bianca again, his eyes carefully watching his brother's figure as it disappeared out the door. His gaze fell back on Bianca, noticing her lower her head in a regretful yet thoughtful manner.

"Has he been bothering you?" Wyatt questioned insightfully.

"Not lately," Bianca answered. "I haven't given him the courtesy."

Wyatt looked at her sympathetically. "I've got a meeting to attend with the Tsarkis. There're a few loose ends that need to be tied up. If you're feeling less than secure, you're welcome to join me."

Looking towards him she smiled appreciatively. "I'll be fine."

Her gaze traveled away into unobserved territory as it moved towards looking at nothing, her mind instead delving inwards and letting her inner thoughts circulate whilst Wyatt orbed out. Slowly she drifted towards the door, the quietness broken by the chopping sound of a helicopter as it passed over the abandoned building. Bianca barely had time to glance up before she was yanked to the side. Flattening her palm, she thrust her heel into the chest of the ambushing assailant. A small sound of wind escaping the larynx leapt from his mouth. Closing it quickly, Chris rubbed his chest where she'd hit him.

"Ow! Don't you look before you strike?" he asked.

"Generally, no," she answered. "It keeps the faces out of my head."

"Can I talk to you?"

"No."

"Bianca," he rebuked. She folded her arms and stared at him as a child would rebel against their parents when being lectured about something they didn't want to hear. "I've been thinking about things, about us."

"Chris," she said tiredly, rolling her eyes away as she interrupted him.

"Listen," he insisted, taking hold of her arms with his hands. She felt the warmth and dampness of them, knowing instantly he was nervous. No matter how brave he tried to look as she faced him, his body was giving away the feelings of paranoia underneath. "I've been thinking about things, about what you said. I realize I was wrong to push you into that situation, but I couldn't help it. I shouldn't have done what I did either but selfishly I was thinking about us and not the problems it would cause other people. I was following my heart because that's where you are."

"Aw, how romantic," she mocked. "Mind you, I don't buy it. Maybe some other blonde bimbo-ess would. Are you sure you don't mean your blood because that's the only thing I ever felt pulsing when I was around. I know though, when it comes to you, you're nothing but a cancer trying to take hold of my mind. I spent so long agonizing over what you were telling me, what Wyatt told me, and it was hurting me, Chris. I didn't know who to believe, who to trust anymore. You may have followed your heart but I followed my head and did what was best for me."

"To ensure survival, right? You know there's more out there than just Wyatt and his quest for world dominance. If the job is all you're worried about, then we'll get you a new one, another career. You don't have to live like this."

"And you don't understand!" Bianca shouted back at him, feeling the tears burning in her eyes at the very thought of what she had done. "I can't just trade this in. This is what I do, Chris. This is what I've done my whole life! I don't know how to do anything else! Whether I like it or not, I'm trapped. I can't just move on. I'm going to be stuck doing this for the rest of my life and there's nothing anybody can do to change that."

"We can try," Chris said reassuringly, moving closer to her. "Bianca-"

"Go away, Chris," she said softly. "Please, just go away."

Pressing her palm lightly against his chest this time, she pushed herself away from him, finding that he wasn't about to move, only that she had the sudden need to get away. She couldn't handle the pressure from him, the mind games, the memories he was unintentionally digging up. But most of all she could not let him see her cry, crying was a weakness, one that led to many bad things including disappointment. She couldn't let down her defences to him nor open herself up completely about her past. There were too many things there she didn't want to remember. If she could just stay away from everybody, then maybe she wouldn't have to think of the unpleasant things anymore.

Shimmering away from him, she reappeared back at her apartment. She didn't feel safe here, not when she knew just anybody could shimmer or orb their way in. She needed to be somewhere small, contained, cluttered; somewhere where she could hide. She wasn't small enough to crawl behind the back of the couch as she had done when she was little, not that it would help any. She'd still feel exposed, the room itself felt far too large and open right now. Instead she opted for the place she had hidden after her first kill, a place with a floor, many large pieces of furniture, and cold water. Even the chill of the tiles would make her feel better, feel human, to feel like she was actually there.

Escaping into the bathroom, she closed the door firmly behind her, fastening the lock on the back that right at this moment seemed all too convenient. Sinking down onto the floor she felt the first few tears seep from her eyes and slide down her face. Resting her head against the cool tiles, she closed her eyes to the scenery around her, but found that even that darkness could not block the memories from rushing back. All the heartache, threats and fear flooded her mind, and suddenly she felt very small and insignificant in this world. She began to blame herself for everything bad that had happened, recollecting everything she had done and playing it over in her mind like some kind of gruesome movie. She watched as her mother blamed her for not having the perfect life, as Michael blamed her for every mission they'd failed, as Abe called her useless and a nuisance, as Michael called her all kinds of things but nothing hurt worse than his final words to her which resulted in her being viewed as nothing more than a whore. She turned her arms up on her knees, looking at the birthmark, remembering the time she had physically taken it out on herself. He'd helped her then – but was every kind of assistance and sympathy only going to lead to more pain? Right at this moment it felt like it, and all she could do was think of how to make it worse. There was nothing anyone could do to help her; the frail things she'd place her hope and salvation in seemed far too thin to stop her fall now.

Choking on a sob, she allowed the tears to flow freely now, gave herself permission to be able to cry. She had assured herself that no-one would find her now. She was safe, she wouldn't be seen. She could let everything out, and then it would be over, and no-one would ever know. Curling up, she buried her head in her arms, hating what she had become. She drew her arms tighter and pressed her face further against them as she attempted to smother the sounds of her own weeping and still the tears dampening her face. Finally as she became certain she could cry no more, she lifted her head and brushed back her hair with her hand, the other still clinging to her knee. Her face felt hot and flushed and she knew she had to move towards the sink, to run the water and wash away the evidence, but for the moment she couldn't move. For the moment she was trying to resuppress the memories she had let out, the ones she never wanted to see again. Then she would harden herself, become bitter and cold as she had been before, raise her wall of defence so that she could never be hurt again.


	24. Chapter 24

**2025 **_cont._

"Biotech industries will this week announce that it could be ready to distribute millions of doses of vaccine to combat the threat of magical beings known as warlocks to the medical community across San Francisco in the coming few months," the reporter on the television announced. "This will see the demise of creatures that have terrorised our community for an expansive period of time. This vaccine has spent years in production and only a one hundred percent result rate in the past four months has given Biotech Industries the go ahead to produce it on a national scale. Separately next week, Biotech Industries is expected to announce a research and development day to give investors an update on promising future products. The news will be taken as a further sign that the company's pipeline of new medicines is continuing to strengthen. We believe it will focus on their anti-infective program which includes possible treatments for HIV and cancer."

"That's interesting," Wyatt said, cocking his head as he tried to take in every significant detail of the lab from the television screen to determine its location.

"What is?" Bianca asked, her eyes still trained on the newspaper in front of her. She flipped over the page and glanced through the obits. She hadn't intentionally taken up the practice Greg had told her about all those years ago but just found it to be natural instinct now.

"The mortal species have developed a way to eradicate a few of my enemies. I never actually thought any of them would try to help me."

"There's probably some catch," Bianca murmured nonchalantly.

"Yes, they're not going to inoculate us," Wyatt said, standing. "They'll view this as a step towards destroying the entire magical community. They feel threatened by us because we're different, because we have more powers at our disposal. I'd rather view their provision as an underestimation. They fail to see that we, like them, are members of the same society. We can get the upper hand here. C'mon."

Bianca, paying little attention to his ranting, looked at him apprehensively as he placed a hand on her arm. Before she could ask where they were going he orbed them both to the industrial side of San Francisco. The place where they were seemed a lot more modern and grander than other deteriorated buildings nearby. They stood on a long paved driveway before dark iron gates that rose at least three times the height of them from the ground. The gates were sealed closed, but inside the grounds Bianca could see lush green grass and a building made of reflective blue glass that mirrored the outside world and concealed that which lay within. A large sign off to the left declared they were outside the office of Biotech Industries.

"You want the vaccine," Bianca stated with a wry smile as she realised why they'd come.

"Well I don't see any other way we could help ourselves," Wyatt said, lifting his hands to blow up the gate.

"Why didn't you just take us inside?" Bianca questioned, watching him flick his fingers, sparks resonating off the metal but little being achieved otherwise.

"Well given the exposure of the laboratory and the high profile of its medication, I expect the place would be filled with magical booby traps. They're just as opposed to witches as warlocks you know."

"Yes, but you're also part whitelighter," Bianca pointed out. "They don't know anything about them."

"True," Wyatt agreed. "But it helps to employ a diversionary tactic. Besides, I want some credit given to me for what I do. There're too many covens and demonic warlords out their claiming my work is theirs. I'd like a little recognition for a change."

"If you're trying to work your way through the seven deadly sins, I think pride is your worst characteristic," Bianca reprimanded.

"There's no harm in wanting a little attention." Wyatt shrugged.

His gaze travelled back to the road as the sound of tires crunching over loose gravel revealed a car approaching their location. It stopped at the base of the driveway, one man in uniform whose hair and complexion were almost the colour of snow exited the vehicle and walked towards them.

"Oh, look, company!" Wyatt quipped joyously towards Bianca. He smiled broadly as the man halted before them. "Good evening, officer."

"Anything I can help you with?" the officer asked, suspicion ripe on his face.

"Why, yes, in fact you could. I was about to give this fine young lady from the Bay Mirror a tour of the facility in the lead-up to our announcement, but it appears I've lost my key. You wouldn't happen to know another way of getting us in, would you?"

Bianca stifled a laugh at Wyatt's over-pleasantness, turning away quickly to conceal her amusement. It was not a typical thing for Wyatt to act so nice towards someone, especially someone who held some power and authority. It was twice as ridiculous for him to think that the police officer would buy his story when neither of them was wearing anything closely resembling a suit. In fact Wyatt was dressed so casually it would have been easier to believe he was a tourist who'd lost his way.

"No," the officer answered. He indicated back towards the gates. "Why don't you call one of your friends in there, get them to let you in?"

Wyatt held up empty hands. "No phone."

"Miss?"

Bianca looked back to the officer, immediately becoming resolute as her gaze hardened. She knew he was asking about hers. All good reporters carried a cell phone.

"It's broken," she said flatly.

Wyatt took a step closer. He was taller than most people, and she knew he often looked more intimidating when he was towering over someone he was trying to threaten. Height often worked to his advantage.

"I can't help you in," the officer said deftly, watching Wyatt closely.

"Can't or won't?" Wyatt asked, his tone now lowering to one that was serious and demanding. "We could always bargain with you – for the lives of your wife, your children…"

The officer looked at him smugly. "I'm not married."

Turning his head slightly, Wyatt raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Quickly Bianca glanced back towards the patrol car, making certain that the secondary officer still seated behind the wheel had not become aware of the trouble about to befall them through secret codes or body language.

"Partner?" Wyatt guessed, remembering not everyone in San Francisco was heterosexual. Seeing the officer back down, he knew his assumption was right. He turned to Bianca. "I keep forgetting there's a whole other side to San Francisco, and it's not magical."

"You're not going to be able to threaten your way inside," the officer spoke, putting on a braver front.

"Look, lieutenant… Malfoy, is it?" Wyatt queried, peering at the embroidered name on his shirt and trying to decipher the deteriorating thread. Flicking his hand in front of him as he straightened, it appeared as if he were swatting a bug but from the corner of her eye, Bianca saw the petrol tank open, the cap loosening and clattering to the ground as a flood of liquid began to pour from the hole and down the side of the car until it puddled on the ground. The quick motion of Wyatt's fingers told her that he was doing it. "I appreciate the fact that you're trying to do your job here, but we are also trying to do ours. You're leaving me with very little choice."

Malfoy grabbed for the intercom on his shoulder to call for backup. His full attention on Wyatt, he did not see Bianca close in on him. She snatched the transmitter from his hand and expertly wound the cord around his neck before he could even holler a protest. Bianca looked expectantly over his shoulder at Wyatt, waiting for him to give a command or finish what he planned to do. He chose the latter. Orbing a fist sized metal ball into his palm, he gently tossed it up and down in his hand.

"I've always wanted to try one of these. We never got to use them in baseball back at school. I wonder if I've lost any of my pitching skill."

Reeling back, he threw the glistening metallic ball at the car. It landed at the back wheel, splashing up dark drops as it crashed in the puddle of fuel. Exploding upon impact in an array of silver sparks, the car rocked to the side, a series of flame engulfing it. Bianca glanced back, her hand still fastened around the intercom. Realising he was in life-threatening danger, Officer Malfoy began to squirm harder to pull away from her, but her hold on him only tightened with the effort. This situation covered with a backdrop of roaring flame gave her some kind of satisfaction that she was doing what she should be.

"No backup, no transport, what are you going to do?" Wyatt taunted. He looked at the man thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to meet Bianca's. "It would be a shame to waste this opportunity. Let him go."

Bianca looked at Wyatt with bemusement but did as he asked. Officer Malfoy rubbed hit throat where Bianca had made the cord dig into his skin.

"You're tempting exposure," Bianca said warily. Wyatt shook his head with reason. He knew how to get what he wanted.

She saw him raise his fist to his mouth and then flatten out the palm in Malfoy's direction. She could see a small pile of what looked to be residual orb matter on his hand – whitelighter dust. Gently he blew the small pile across his fingers, the particles speckling onto the officer's body.

"You were ambushed while out on patrol. Your memory is hazy over what exactly happened – you can't remember by who or why. You do remember that Wyatt Halliwell played a part, and that everybody should fear him because he holds such great power. Those who are willing to oppose will be destroyed. If you discover anything in the future to do with this Wyatt character or Phoenix witches you will immediately bury it and no attempt at charges will be made. Now go back out to the main road and flag down some help for yourself."

Like a drone, Officer Malfoy turned and walked away from them, his expression vacant as he seemingly ignored them like they were only a part of the scenery and not really there at all.

"What did you do to him?" Bianca questioned heatedly, unsure if it was such a good idea to let someone walk away like that.

"Just covered him with a little whitelighter dust so he'd follow my instructions," Wyatt answered.

"You brainwashed him," she said, looking at him doubtfully.

"If I was into that kind of thing I'd have done the whole city by now. I didn't brainwash him, just influenced his thoughts. That's the power of suggestion. I'm certain I would already have been reprimanded if I had done something wrong."

"Are they frightened of you?" Bianca asked.

"Who?"

Bianca waved her hand profusely towards the sky. "Them. The Powers That Be."

Wyatt smirked, replying innocently: "What reason do they have to be scared of me? I haven't started with them yet."

* * *

Orbing into the corridor, Wyatt flattened himself back against the wall, pulling Bianca with him. Peering around the corner, he turned his head towards Bianca, his long blonde curls sweeping over his shoulder as he lifted a finger to his lips.

"Shh," he cautioned.

"What do you mean 'shh'?" Bianca snapped. "You just made a pact with the police! You're not going to get into any trouble."

Wyatt glared at her - she wasn't being anywhere near as quiet as he requested she be. "I may have done something to enable us to walk about freely, but that's not going to help us attack anyone – we still need to implement the element of surprise. But if you continue to get on your high horse and berate me so loudly you're bound to ruin that."

Bianca let out an insolent sigh. Wyatt turned his attention back to where he was looking previously and inched forward, Bianca following closely.

"How do you know where you're going?" she asked.

Wyatt tapped his head. "Sensing powers come in handy sometimes."

"Thought this place was supposed to be magically booby-trapped?"

"Well, yes, intuition plays a hand as well. Like… that," Wyatt said, lifting his hand and waving the approaching probe into the wall. Smashing into pieces, it collapsed uselessly to the ground, sparking as the wires became unearthed from the jumbled mess. "Damn technology."

Weaving in and out of corridors, lowering themselves under Perspex windows as they passed various offices and laboratories, Wyatt finally pronounced their arrival at the laboratory that they needed. Bianca looked at him quizzically, her gaze passing from the contents of the small room back to him. It didn't look any different than the other seven they had passed.

"What makes you think this is the one?" she asked.

"Try to get in," Wyatt said.

Bianca approached the door and tried the handle. Although through the window she could see there was someone inside, the door was firmly closed and not able to be opened.

"It's locked," she declared, turning back to him.

"Well don't look at me so hopelessly. You know of more than one way to get in."

Glowering at him, she lifted her head and tried shimmering her way inside. Her body disappeared for only a moment before it reappeared again tilting forward and stumbling a step as if someone had thrown her.

"Now what did I say?" Wyatt teased.

"You knew that was going to happen," she said bitterly.

Wyatt smiled. "I'm not going to deny it. Want some assistance?"

She looked at his outstretched hand, taking her own and slapping it roughly into his palm. As she had pointed out before, the only way to evade problems such as magical barriers was to get around them through the use of whitelighter powers. It was making her become ever more reliant on him to manoeuvre around the building and do what he had brought them here too. Depending on someone else was not something she did easily.

They orbed into the laboratory and found not one, but two men inside. The second had been crouched behind a table, pulling something from the lower shelf. He rose, staring disbelievingly at the two figures in front of him, the other scientist so focused on his work he seemed not to notice.

"Who the hell are you? And how'd you get in?" the first scientist asked.

"Someone with a vested interest in your product," Wyatt answered. "You wouldn't deny an ally?"

The first scientist nudged the younger one next to him, drawing his attention to the intruders. Startled, he almost knocked everything on the table over.

"Which product?" the first scientist asked innocently. Wyatt rolled his eyes dramatically. His sight passing over to a series of corked vials on the back bench, he scrutinised them with interest.

"Is that the vaccine?" Wyatt questioned.

"What do you want if for?" the first scientist followed.

Wyatt lifted his hand, surveying the man as he floated up into the air. Waving his hand quickly to the side, the first scientist flew straight into the wall, bringing down and shattering an assortment of glass flasks as his body crumpled to the ground.

"You ask too many questions, old man," Wyatt remarked to the dilapidated form before making his way around the table to the vaccine.

"No, don't!" the younger scientist protested, taking a step towards Wyatt.

Bianca now found herself the key between success and failure. Speedily she shimmered between the two men, conjuring a dagger and placing it against the throat of the young scientist.

"Don't what?" Bianca questioned coldly.

Gulping as he looked down at the wrist and arm extending from the hand at his throat, the one with the ability to end his life in seconds, the young man tried to see past Bianca and appeal to Wyatt.

"If you take those, there'll be nothing left," the scientist said. "My mother, Tanya Williams, she had to deal with a warlock when she was pregnant with me. He came from this time to stop the makers. I was the only one that survived. Please, it'll take many more years to develop this treatment if you ruin it now."

"Then you shouldn't advertise," Wyatt said, shrugging of the plea. Collecting the vials into his hands, he lifted his head and stared at the scene off to his right, giving one simple unfeeling order. "Kill him."

As he orbed out, Bianca looked into the scientist's frightened eyes. He wasn't even trying to defend himself, his hands occasionally seeming to feel for something on the counter but nothing was in easy reach.

"Any last requests?" she asked, feigning interest.

"Let me go," he pleaded. "You got what you came for. There's no need to spill blood over this."

Her lips curving slightly into a twisted smile, she glanced down the body of the shaking man and spotted an ever increasing stain growing on the front of his trousers. He really was scared of her. And despite the encompassing warmth of power, something in the back of her mind was telling her this was wrong. She almost thought her mind had echoed and suspended from her body when that voice interjected that doubt from behind her.

"He's right," he agreed.

Bianca knew she was taking too long – any other situation and she would have been overpowered by now. But that voice, the oh so familiar one, lingered with her and she refused to obey it, refused to concede and disobey Wyatt. She sank the edge of the blade into the flesh, not too deep, but enough to position a sharp steady slice. The young scientist cried out at the sting, drops of blood dribbling onto the flat of the metal and trickling down his neck.

"Bianca, stop it!" Chris demanded. She froze, the dagger not moving one way or the other. "You have a choice. Walk away from this."

"Go away, Chris," she warned. "You can't tell me what to do. Wyatt—"

"Is gone. He abandoned you, Bianca. He got what he wanted and left you to clean up the mess."

Bianca bit her lip, trying to hold back the emotion that was bubbling to the surface. She knew Chris had no idea how much his words were affecting her – she had told him nothing of her past. As if sensing he was upsetting her, Chris took on a softer tone, cautiously stepping towards her.

"You don't have to do this," he said reassuringly. "You can be free. I'll take you away from all this. I promise I will."

All at once her wall came crashing down – he had spoken to her the words she had waited her whole life to hear. Never before had anyone said that to her, had promised her such a grand thing with such empathic emotion. Never had she been able to believe in someone like she believed in him right now. She didn't think anyone had ever cared about her before – at least not enough to grant her freedom from the things she hated about herself, her life, her situation. It was the first selfless act in her favour. The thought that Chris actually cared about her, actually loved her enough to say that, brought tears to her eyes. Hitching a breath as she tried to reclaim some kind of status by holding off the tears, her hold on the dagger's handle loosened and she kept her eyes locked on the scientist.

"You should be thankful," she said, nodding her head slightly as the tears welled in her eyes, her steady voice a true mask to the pain she currently felt inside. "He just saved your life."

Pulling the dagger away, her hand dropping uselessly to her side, she opened her palm and let the dagger disappear with a flourish. Defeated, the tears falling freely now, she turned and took a step towards Chris. Lifting his arms he wrapped them securely around her body and drew her closer. He held onto her tightly as she cried, glancing over to the nervous and bewildered young scientist. He knew they needed to get out, and he was the key to her escape.

Orbing from the laboratory, he took her to the memorial garden at Golden Gate Park – the very place he had first made her aware of the wrong she was doing. He hoped that if she saw it all again, if he could remind her, then she'd remember all that he had said. And with that hope he had the belief that maybe he could help her, that he could change all this and that finally she may feel safe enough to open up to him and give him real answers as to what had happened between them.

Gently he pushed her away from him and eased her down onto the stone seat, her hands falling to the edge as she gripped onto it like she needed some additional support. He stood before her, looking down on her as she bowed her head and tried to get herself back under control, the tears receding to sniffles before she looked up to him. Inspecting the look on his face, she couldn't help but let out a little hostility in an attempt to bring her defences back up, to push him away for daring to see her like this – exposed and weak.

"Don't feel sorry for me," she said.

"I won't," Chris replied shortly. She looked at him with surprise. He folded his arms defensively. "I mean, why should I? You didn't show me any kind of sympathy or reason when you ended things between us. I do have feelings too, you realise. Not everyone can be as indifferent as you."

"I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry I'm not perfect." She paused, waiting for a sign of forgiveness or an appreciative understanding but his eyes only darkened. "I can't live up to what you want me to be. I can't just make it all better."

"I don't want you to make it better. I want you to help me understand. You never even gave us a chance. Every time I tried to get close to you you'd just put up a wall or turn away. Nothing I could do or say could change your mind. I don't know if it's you, if it's me, tell me Bianca. Am I wasting my time?" he queried. "Tell me right now if you want me to go, and I will."

Numbly she shook her head. She didn't know how to answer him. She cared about him now, really cared, and she knew despite this defensive bravado he felt the same. As if sensing his tactic was not exactly winning her over, he relaxed slightly. She had given him the answer he had hoped for; he didn't need to be paranoid about that now. Moving to her side, he swung a leg over the stone bench and lowered himself onto it. Sliding himself towards her, he reached forward and took her hand from the side into his own, his other hand coming to rest on her knee.

"Then why do you keep running away from me? I need to know the truth, you owe me that much. You know I would do the same for you. What are you running from?" he asked softly. She looked up at him, so scared to admit any of it to him. He could see the fear in her eyes, the fear that coursed through her body making her blood run cold and her heart beat faster. "And don't use Wyatt as an excuse."

"He's not an excuse. He's been shielding me from my past, from the Phoenix. That's why I went back to him, that's why I stay with him. I owe it to him for all he's done. I didn't want to betray him like I have been my whole life." She looked away from him, not even sure how much detail she should go into. Pulling away slightly in her uncomfortableness she decided to broach the issue with her mother and the coven itself, but not go any further. "She hated me, you know. My mother. She forced me into doing this. Just because this was the way she liked to live. She didn't want me around after my father died – I was ruining her lavish lifestyle. Her work was more important to her than I was. Then she tried to make me be like her. The whole coven wanted me to be like her – no, to surpass her. And my whole life she lied to me, they lied to me, all of them. I was caged in with these huge expectations placed on me, and nothing was ever good enough – not for her, not for the boss. I hated it."

"I can empathise. I know what it's like to have a parent not care about you," Chris said softly. Bianca looked at him misty-eyed, both sympathetic and questioning. How was it he could know? How could he understand? How could he go on pretending everything was okay in his life if he held the same pain inside? "Dad was always busy with the Elders. If there was ever a problem down here, sure he'd drop everything and come running if it was Wyatt, or even mom, but not me. He would hardly even look at me. I felt invisible around him. I felt ignored. And no matter what I did I could never live up to the great magical prodigy that was Wyatt."

Bianca shifted herself back towards him. She could see the tears in his eyes, and now she knew. The resentment went far beyond some little spat they'd had. It stretched for miles, and Chris had been severely affected his whole life. She lifted her hand, brushing away the tear that rolled silently down his cheek.

"Wyatt always took his attention," Chris continued. "It was always Wyatt this, Wyatt that. Mom could see I was suffering. She tried to make up for it, but it was hard. Wyatt would always do something to distract her. He even put the attention back onto himself at mom's funeral, throwing a hissy fit and storming out. Of course Dad was there to stop him, to comfort him, but he barely even said a word to me. You know not one single person came to me to offer their condolences? The only person that cared at all was my grandfather; he was the only one that made me feel like an actual person, he was the only one who even tried to help me. I don't know if I would ever have made it through without him. Dad vanished off the radar and Wyatt was too busy acting out to give a shit about me or anyone else. Grandad was the only family I had left." Chris looked up to the stars in the sky, sniffling as he tried to keep the tears from falling, but every time he thought he had control of himself, another memory would come back and fresh tears with it. "Cancer got the better of him… and now I've lost him… I've got no-one to hold onto."

Bianca brushed the tears from her eyes, not aware his story had started her crying again. She took his hand into hers warmly, moving up to him as close as she could get.

"Chris," she said tentatively. He lowered his head, his eyes meeting hers. Gently she traced the tracks of his tears with her fingers. "You have me." Her voice was soft and reassuring, carrying the hope that he needed. He watched her intently as she inched ever closer to him, her lips just inches from his own. "You have me."

She shut her eyes to the world, to the darkness and pain as she pressed her lips to his, sinking into the warmth and comfort he had to offer, that which she was willing to return. It would not be the same as last time. This time they knew each other. This time they had shared something, bared part of their souls. Now he was not just a passing interest but someone she loved.


	25. Chapter 25

**2026**

Bianca shimmered to the top of the overpass, moving up next to Wyatt and leaning on the rail to look over at the passing traffic below.

"You're late," he said.

She shrugged. "I had things to do."

His eyes passed over to her curiously. "You know that excuse is starting to wear thing now."

"What do you want me to tell you?" she inquired innocently.

"Some detail might be nice," he said expectantly, turning to lean back against the rail. She snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, finally pushing herself away from the railing, her hands still encompassing the metal bar as she looked at him playfully. "Don't tell me you've picked up another hobby outside this?"

"Yes, knitting," Bianca responded smartly. "I can make you a nice black scarf if you like."

Pulling herself towards the barrier again she peered over the edge as a truck blasted its horn below, folding her arms across the top of the railing and leaning further forward to get a better view. Wyatt watched her thoughtfully. He doubted there was any truth to her story.

"I don't believe you. The only reason you'd even pick up a knitting needle is to stake someone with it."

Glancing up at him she smirked, knowing he was right. Wyatt caught a glimmer in her eye and wondered what had made her so happy. Light seemed to radiate from her lately, something he'd never seen before, but in her secretive state she wasn't bound to tell him why. Her eyes passed back behind them before settling on him again.

"So did I miss all the action?" she inquired.

"Unfortunately," Wyatt answered. "Although there may have been more if that warlock was still around; but my family vanquished him years ago. Doesn't stop this place being what it is though."

"A place for demons to converse?" Bianca guessed, looking at him with interest. Wyatt gave her a grim smile.

"Inner demons maybe. This spot is notorious for suicides. My aunt tried to jump off this bridge once. Guess it runs in the family." He glanced at her quickly before looking away again, his eyes becoming misty with tears brought on by old memories. "Not that I ever did…jump, that is. But I thought about it. I used to come up here all the time, even more so after my mother died. It's difficult to cope with the great weight of responsibility, when you're meant to live up to and be this image of some great magical being who can do anything and everything, to try to handle the burden of expectation placed on you because a prophecy said so before you were born. And it's twice as hard trying to deal with it all when you see something everyone's expecting you to fix but you know you can't stop it."

Bianca looked at him sympathetically, watching as he turned back towards the railing, leaning hard on it and letting out a deep, sorrowful breath as he stared down at the traffic below, reliving his own nightmare. To a minor degree she could empathise – not that she'd had any prophecy laid out for her, but the enforcement of commitment to the coven and the great expectation placed on her made her feel a certain affinity to his hurt.

"Do you know what it's like to feel helpless?" he suddenly snapped towards her.

"Yes," she answered meekly. Wyatt shook his head.

"Of course you do, after what happened between you and the Phoenix." He waved his hand profusely in the air. "Most people don't bother trying to empathise or understand the strain they're placing on someone else. So long as it makes things easier for them. Often they're blind to the fact they're driving people to breaking point. But you've already been there so you know what I mean."

Bianca nodded. "But I've been stronger than most people I've heard about. I may look unaffected by it all, but there's still pain buried underneath those scars. I never knew things were so bad for you."

"I skated very close to the surface of it all. Then I turned and took it out on something else. It may have looked as if I'd finally accepted my birthright but I was just trying to end it. I'm still trying to end it." Sniffling loudly, he ran the back of his hand underneath his nose before looking at Bianca with a purposeful gaze. "That's enough sightseeing. We've gotta get a move on to the shipping yards to assess what my other lackeys are doing."

Thinking there may be a problem without him or Bianca around; his thoughts were confirmed once they reached the warehouse. Bianca and Wyatt raced over at the booming sound from within. The doors were wide open, the place completely empty. Sounds of scuffling from behind the place reached their ears and they went back through the doors, heading around the building and stopping on the gravel, witnessing a body being thrown against the chain link fence. Rebounding back they saw it was one of Wyatt's demons, the second taking a swing at the perpetrator who threw the first. A man with a mop of brown hair ducked down to avoid being hit, tossing his head back as he stood again. Bianca could already see a smatter of bruises on his face.

"Enough!" Wyatt bellowed. The two demons stopped fighting, their hands still raised. As soon as they spotted Wyatt they quickly stood to attention. Chris also looked, his long hair sweeping across his face, blown gently by the wind. "Chris. Something I can do for you?"

"Yeah, send these demons to hell where they belong."

Wyatt's eyes passed over the scene in front of him, inspecting both the demons and Chris. "I would have thought we were already there. And that's not a very supportive suggestion from a supposed family member."

"What would you know about family?" Chris yelled. "You only ever do things for yourself."

"That's bullshit, Chris, and you know it," Wyatt retorted. "I did everything to help and protect mom and dad, and what did you do? Nothing, because you're completely useless."

Chris glared at Wyatt, taking a few gallant steps towards him. Bianca circled away from the pair, feeling the heat glowering between them. She didn't want to be caught in the crossfire, not unless she needed to be.

"I may not have the power you do but at least I didn't let this family down," Chris sniped in a low voice.

His curls blowing across his darkening eyes, his jaw becoming rigid, Wyatt drew his arm back and, with as much force as he could muster, threw his fist forward into Chris' face. Chris went down, his hand flying up to his cheek in shock. Bianca took a step forward and stopped. She didn't want to blow her cover, but she wasn't about to stand by and watch Wyatt beat the living shit out of Chris.

Wyatt placed his foot on Chris' shoulder, turning him back down to the ground and preventing him from getting up. The dust from his boot fell onto the back of Chris' shirt as he ground him further into the dirt.

"I wish you'd never been born," Wyatt said, grabbing Chris by the hair and throwing his face down into the gravel.

Bianca looked up at the sky as she felt the first drops of rain hit her skin. It was as black as Wyatt's temper. Somewhere off in the distance she heard thunder begin to rumble.

"Wyatt," she cautioned, directing upwards with her eyes.

His eyes wild and full of loathing, he glanced back to her before slowly edging himself away from Chris, his gaze firmly locked on his younger brother. Chris raised his head from the ground, blinking rapidly as if to clear his eyes from the dust that filled them. Fresh cuts had opened up on his face, made by the sharp rocks he'd been thrown against. Wearily he looked across to Wyatt, squinting to gain focus as he attempted to push himself up again.

"Things were so much better before you came along," Wyatt continued to rant angrily. "It was because of you they stopped noticing what was happening with me. Even before you were born you were still interfering and I found myself in more trouble than I could have ever thought possible. You were an unplanned distraction. Because of you I had no-one to protect me. They were all too vulnerable. I was too young to have to protect everyone else; too young to have to endure that kind of pressure. Can you imagine that, Chris? Would you even know what it's like to have every magical creature on this earth come after you because they wanted your powers? Do you know how hard it is to fend every one of them off when you've barely mastered your own powers?"

The thunder exploded overhead, lightning ripping through the sky as it darkened immensely. The rain flooded down over them, Bianca ducking her head quickly and looking around for shelter. Wyatt didn't care, he didn't even seem to notice. Chris stumbled on the way up, his foot slipping in the newly formed mud beneath his feet. Using his hand to break his fall, he began pushing himself up again, wiping the dirt and grit onto the leg of his jeans.

"Maybe they never would have come if mom and dad didn't have you to deal with. Maybe I would never have been placed directly into their hands. There is no safe haven here, Chris. Every second you face danger. Keep getting in my way and it'll get worse," Wyatt warned. His eyes finally moved away from his brother and focused on the two demons. "Do whatever you want. I don't care anymore."

Gleefully one of the demons smiled, eager to get his hands back on Chris again. They both turned back towards Chris. Bianca stepped forward, grabbing the arm of the closest demon, but he wasn't the one Chris was in danger from. The one who seemed to enjoy being violent towards Chris lit up a fireball. Chris held up his arms, trying valiantly to push him away, but the demon had better grounding and pressed the fireball against Chris' upper arm, searing through shirt and flesh as Chris cried out in pain.

"Let go of him!" Bianca demanded, striding forward and ripping the second demon away. "If you plan on slowly torturing him you're going to give him more opportunity to get away. You can get your Jolly's persecuting small animals instead. This one you take out directly."

Shoving the demon away, Bianca hooked her foot around the back of Chris' ankle, twisting herself to push him to the ground. At first Chris was smug, but the expression was quickly overtaken by one of surprise, a loud yelp escaping his lips as his back connected harshly with the softening ground. He stared up at her as she sat on top of him trying to shake the wet strings of hair away that were plastered to her face. His heart beat faster as he saw the look of contempt on her face, fright starting to set in as he saw her conjure a dagger into her hand, pressing it closely to his throat. This was the worst thing he could imagine happening. Why would she do this to him?

"Go," she ordered, glancing up at the demons. "I don't need a cheer squad. You're only going to get in the way."

Groaning, the demons shimmered out. Wyatt turned back, watching Bianca studiously. The anger seemed to have drained from him, leaving him looking pale and weary; a bleak image in his drenched attire. Bianca rolled her shoulders as she looked back down to Chris, pressing the knife-edge harder against his skin.

"What are you doing?" Chris whispered hurriedly.

"Do you want this to go fast or slow?" Bianca asked. "Either way I'm not perturbed."

"You don't have to kill him," Wyatt said softly, the rain falling down around him as he watched the pair apathetically. "He's harmless."

"Couldn't I just maim him a little?" Bianca asked. "At least enough to deter him from disturbing us in future."

Chris lifted his hands, trying to pull hers away but finding her surprisingly strong as she held her guard over him. He was seriously worried now, wondering what Wyatt had said to make her hate him so much.

"Whatever you do it's not going to stop me," Chris insisted.

"Shutup!" Bianca shouted, glaring at him.

Wyatt shook his head slowly, brushing a hand back through his dishevelled hair. "Slaughtering my family isn't going to solve anything. In fact that's rather against my intentions."

"He still needs to be taught a lesson," Bianca maintained.

"All in due time," Wyatt said, looking up as the thunder boomed overhead again. "I think it would be wise to leave now. I can see things going relatively astray."

"Go find shelter. I'll see you later, after I've dealt with him," Bianca said.

"Don't be too long," Wyatt said, adding quietly: "Or harsh."

Chris stared up at Bianca, hearing his brother orb out amid the falling drops of rain. He felt much like doing the same, although he was curious as to what had happened to Bianca. No sooner had Wyatt departed, Chris saw Bianca's sneer shift into a smile.

"Did I scare you?" she asked playfully.

"Could you remove the knife from my throat before I answer that?" Chris requested timorously.

"No, you look more lively that way."

"Yeah but it's kinda uncomfortable, and you know I hate –"

Bianca lowered herself until her lips touched his, kissing him lightly before drawing back slightly. She couldn't deny the rush she felt running around and doing this in secret, that compulsive satisfaction of being able to evade being caught.

"What do you hate?" she whispered, pressing her lips against his again, obligingly removing the dagger from his throat, drawing it lightly down the left side of his shirt before making it disappear.

"Um," Chris mumbled against her lips. She drew away, feeling his hand run down her back in a rough motion over the dampened clothes that clung tightly to her body. "Do you know how dangerous you're making this? He's going to find out."

"He's not going to find out," Bianca disagreed insistently. "Besides, I like having you all to myself. In a way it's fun… thrilling…"

"Painful, ow," Chris groaned, trying to move his arm out from under her.

Shifting her knee, she looked down at the burnt hole in the sleeve of his shirt. Her gaze drifting to his face as she inspected the rest of his injuries, she gently brushed his hair aside, tenderly touching the scratches and the bruise she revealed - the outcome of his encounter with Wyatt.

"We better take you home and get some ice for that." With a look of sympathy, she pushed herself back and stood, helping him to his feet. "I'll have to start teaching you to be stealthier."

"So long as you remember what I taught you."

"What's that?" she asked with a smile, changing her grip on his hands as she stepped in closer.

"That you don't have to go around killing every man and his dog to get what you want."

"I know," she said, looking away quickly.

"And that you're allowed to relax. Movies and massages are good things."

She laughed, her eyes sparkling as she looked back to him. "I know that too. Are you hinting at what I think you are?"

"Could be," Chris responded mischievously.

"How about we get you a little TLC first?" she suggested. Nodding, Chris allowed her to shimmer them out.

* * *

She scrubbed at the fogged up mirror in the bathroom, the mist giving way to her own reflection. Picking up a brush, she ran it through her hair. It was quite long now, and a whole lot lighter. Namely because of Chris. He had thought it was a good test of will if she could patiently sit in a hair salon for three hours without feeling the urge to pick up any of the sharp implements around her and use them. She was glad to say she'd passed that test, coming out with a few highlights in her hair as an added bonus. Despite remaining keenly observant, she also suspected Chris had been outside preventing any temptation from getting in.

Tightening the towel again as it loosened around her, she stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway and was stopped abruptly by Chris orbing in, looking remotely dishevelled.

"Chris, please. Tell me you didn't," she said discouragingly. Sheepishly he looked away. "Chris! I told you not to interfere with what he's doing!"

"But the Nuex are too simple for his grand plans," Chris protested. "They wouldn't survive."

"You have to stop antagonising him, Chris. You'll only make things worse."

"And just let him have his way like you do?" Chris questioned bluntly. Bianca looked at him darkly.

"He has a system," she said carefully. "You avoid stepping in the danger zones and you won't get hurt."

"Right," Chris sighed insolently, rolling his eyes away.

"I don't want to see you get hurt, Chris," she said honestly, her tone softer now.

At the sound of orbs, they both turned their heads. It was not going to be Chris - he was already there - so surely it had to be only one person.

"Shit," Bianca cursed, grabbing hold of Chris and shimmering them to her bedroom. Quickly she slammed the door shut.

"Bianca?" Wyatt's voice echoed through the apartment.

"Just a minute!" she called. "I'm getting dressed."

Sliding open the door of the built-in wardrobe she pushed Chris inside. There wasn't a whole lot in there; she lived on bare essentials - rarely having the time to make an outing to go shopping. Chris made little effort to hide, Bianca pushing him down as he fumbled to pull a shirt from one of the various hangers.

"Ow!" Chris cried, ducking and grabbing his head as he looked vehemently towards the wooden hanger that had assaulted him. He received no sympathy from Bianca, instead she pushed him back roughly against the far wall, the clothes almost smothering him as they swung around his face.

"Stay!" she ordered, pulling the door closed so fast that it made a smacking sound and rebounded partially open again.

Chris crawled down and peered through the gap, watching as Bianca quickly buttoned the top and then shimmied into a skirt. Looking around frantically, her eyes fell on Chris. He smiled cheekily.

"You know you could be helpful. Gimmie my boots." She looked to the door, panicked as she heard Wyatt's heavy footfalls on the other side. "Quick! Hurry!"

There was a rattling in the cupboard as Chris searched around for a pair of boots, his arm finally appearing through the gap and throwing them towards her. Hastily he closed the door behind him. Bianca pulled on the footwear, giving one last glance around the room before grabbing a hair-tie and walking out to Wyatt, looking preoccupied as she fastened her hair back into a ponytail, leading him further away to the living room.

"Did you hear the news yet?" Wyatt asked.

"No, I was in the shower," she explained.

"My brother has been sticking his nose into things again," he stated, turning and pacing the length of the room, his fist closing before him as he vocalised his frustration. "I almost had the eastern quarter of the Financial District in my grasp until that little mischievous runt came along and spoiled it."

Throwing his fist into the wall before him in aggravation, the pain that resonated through his knuckles and back up his arm brought him out of his reverie. He shook his hand, trying to lessen the feeling, his eyes moving back to Bianca to see she had not moved. She didn't even look the slightest bit concerned for his welfare. This only annoyed him more. He knew he was losing her, he'd realised that years ago, but now the distance was becoming a vast divide and he didn't know how he could stop it nor reel her back in.

"You don't look surprised," he observed.

"Should I be? You're always telling me what an interfering nuisance he is."

"I know. He's starting to irritate me more than I thought he would. I'm afraid I underestimated his capabilities. I thought without the book he'd be harmless."

"He has his own powers," Bianca pointed out.

"Yes, but what can he do? Move a few things about or orb out. They're all defensive. When it comes to fight or flight, he usually takes off. But lately he's been proving me wrong, and I never thought he'd try to attack someone without a spell in hand."

"What are you going to do about it?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, lifting his hands and running them back through his hair in agitation. "He's family. You're not supposed to fight family – at least not to this degree. He shouldn't be opposing me! I need him on my side."

"I doubt he's going to change his mind because you want him to. Don't expect things to come so easily."

"Well I had an advantage over everyone else. Of course I'd expect that. But he's a Halliwell and that lineage comes with great power. He has one thing that I don't, and that's because I never took the time. If I can get him on my side I won't have to concern myself with that anymore."

Hearing a knock at the front door, Bianca glanced from it to Wyatt quickly before heading over to open it. On the other side stood Conway - a demon who often frequented Wyatt's company. His hands clasped behind his back, he raised his eyebrows at her, his thick Welsh accent tumbling from his mouth as he explained his reason for being there.

"There appears to be a situation in the Eastern quarter of the Financial District," he said informatively.

"Yes, I know. Wyatt told me," Bianca responded.

Peering over her shoulder, he saw Wyatt and eagerly pushed his way past. Bianca glared at him, following him into her apartment, irritated with the intrusion. Waving his hand back at Bianca, he nodded with acknowledgement towards Wyatt.

"The lady doesn't like to be unceremoniously dropped in on. We've learnt to approach her from the outside."

"I see that," Wyatt said, his gaze moving over to Bianca. She looked away indignantly.

"Sir, there's trouble arising South of Market. I think you should come bear witness," Conway advised.

"We'll be right there," Wyatt said. Conway looked from Bianca to Wyatt, trying to determine what he'd missed out on. Rubbing the stubble on his face, Wyatt tried again to get rid of him. "Give us a moment. We won't be long."

"Thank you, sir," Conway said, giving an appreciative bow and shimmering out. Wyatt turned back to Bianca, watching her kick at the floor absently.

"It's torturous having to love and hate someone at the same time, but I swear if he's trying to wage a war –"

"Why don't we just go there first and see what the problem is?" Bianca interjected quickly.

Nodding in agreement, Wyatt began to orb out, Bianca making a move to look like she was doing the same before reappearing with a fake admission of negligence. Wyatt orbed back in, watching her with confusion.

"I forgot something," she said hurriedly, racing back towards her room. Making sure to close her door behind her, doing it as quietly as she could so as not to raise suspicion, she looked back towards the cupboard and hissed: "Chris!"

Hearing a noise from inside as Chris tried to find his way out, accidentally knocking her shoes against the door and making it vibrate, the mirrored surface slid open and he tumbled out onto the floor. Grinning up at her, she put her hands on her hips and looked down at him.

"Is it safe to come out?" he asked jokingly.

"You're already out," she pointed out seriously. "And he hasn't left yet, he's waiting on me."

"So I have to keep letting him run off with you when I want to spend time with you?" Chris asked, his smile completely gone now.

"Well if it's any consolation, he thinks we're chasing you."

"Oh," Chris said shortly, looking down at his feet as he sat up properly. Looking up, bothered when he realised what she meant, he questioned: "What have I done now? Supposedly done, considering I'm not there."

Bianca sighed. "That crawler Conway thinks you're playing a hand in what's going on South of Market."

"I had nothing to do with that," Chris said, holding his hands up. "Honest."

"I know," Bianca said reassuringly. Taking his hands in hers, she pulled him to his feet. "But you can't hang around here; you have to go, before either of them gets suspicious."

"What about you?" Chris asked. Bianca smiled.

"I'll be fine. I know how to work Wyatt. I'll just show him it's not you. He might become a little more distracted by what's happening there. At least if I make it a huge deal he'll let up on you more."

"Until when? Once he's killed them or turned them, then what?"

Bianca swallowed, looking away slightly offended by what he was implying. Her gaze slowly crossing back to him, she tried to hold back from arguing.

"He just needs a little understanding. You know he doesn't want to fight you, Chris, he wants you on our side."

"Sure… little brother, come to the dark side. We have cookies," Chris said, doing his best impersonation of his older brother. Slipping from the uptight form he had taken into a more relaxed one, he rolled his eyes and waved his hands emphatically at the ridiculousness of the idea. "Right!"

"Chris!" Bianca scolded.

"Come find me when you're done," Chris said irritably, folding his arms and orbing out.

Pursing her lips, she turned her heel outwards and looked down at her boot. Conjuring a dagger into her hand as she leant over, she tucked it into the small straps located on the inside of the shoe, hiding it from view just as an assassin would appropriately do.


	26. Chapter 26

**2026 **_cont._

It was still light outside as Wyatt found time to sit in the armchair of his living room, his ankle squared over the opposite knee as he leafed through the book in his lap. The sounds of Chopin tinkered their way through the silence of his apartment, adding a remnant of relaxation to the quietness within.

"That's exquisite sir," Conway said.

"What is?" Wyatt questioned indifferently, glancing up from his book, not at all surprised to have seen the demon's sudden appearance.

"The music, sir."

"I would have preferred Vivaldi," Wyatt said with a shrug, returning his attention to the book.

"I don't wish to interrupt your quiet time, sir, but in my travels this afternoon I came across something you should know about."

"Mmm, what's that?" Wyatt mumbled uninterestedly, flicking over the page.

"The lady was with your brother."

Wyatt stopped, looking up with confusion. "Bianca?"

"Yes sir."

"With Chris?" Wyatt questioned, his voice raising a notch. Conway nodded. Wyatt cast the book aside, instantly rising to his feet. "Where are they? Is she okay?"

"They're at the memorial garden by the Conservatory of Flowers. And she's more than fine, sir. She was kissing him."

The concern on Wyatt's face was quickly replaced by shock. He felt as if his stomach dropped to the ground, disappointment and anger rife through his system. It was difficult for him to believe it was true, but what else could explain the change in Bianca, the sudden disappearances, all those times he had left their company they could easily have found their way back to one another. He needed to see for himself, he needed some kind of vindication, and he didn't need this becoming some kind of gossip to bring him down.

"Have you told anyone else about this?" Wyatt asked, clenching his hands tightly to stave off his anger.

"No, sir, I came straight to you," Conway said cheerily, under the impression that with this piece of information he would be able to take Bianca's place in the ranks.

"Good," Wyatt said, sounding eerily calm. Conjuring a short blade into his hand, he thrust it into Conway's abdomen, watching as the demon perished before him in a waver of flame. "I'll deal with this on my own."

Orbing over to the location Conway had informed him of, Wyatt snuck his way around the garden hedges, keeping low so as not to be seen. Just as Conway said, they were in the middle of the memorial garden, seated on the stone bench, looking rather cosy together as they talked softly. He sat on the grass, straining to hear what they were saying, but all was lost across the distance. Instead he decided to stick with viewing, slowly starting to regret that he had.

Bianca's hand snuck around to the back of Chris' neck, sliding up through his hair as she pulled him closer, pressing her lips against his. Revolt and disgust turned Wyatt's stomach as he saw Chris' hand slide up her leg, lifting her skirt slightly as his fingers disappeared beneath it. Bianca pressed herself further into Chris, her mouth opening slightly. Wyatt looked away, envisioning their tongues tangling, the pictures getting more detailed and involving in his mind. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Looking back to them, checking to make sure his eyes hadn't betrayed him, he saw the exact same thing; Chris' hand now firmly attached to Bianca's waist. Just when he thought he could take it no more, when he was about to rush forth and stop them, he saw Chris orb them out. So it wasn't a ploy. It was true. And right now Wyatt felt as if a thousand swords had been driven through his heart.

"How dare he?" he seethed, rising to his feet, staring at the stone seat they'd left behind as he stepped into the garden. "She was mine!"

Generating an energy ball into his hand, he cast it at the spot where Chris had been seated only moments before. Turning, he surveyed the rest of the garden. The prettiness, the romanticism - he abhorred it entirely now that he knew what it represented.

"I'm a patient man," Wyatt reminded himself, trying to dilute his anger. "I waited enough time for this, but I did not expect you to steal her out from right under my nose!"

Lifting his hand he spun again, casting the energy ball back towards the stretch of shadow. He watched as it knocked the head off the stone angel statue the dark mass belonged to. Decapitation was a nice way of envisioning what he wanted to do, but still he felt it wasn't enough. No, he had to destroy the place completely. It was the only way he wouldn't have to look at it, the only thing to keep from being reminded of what he just saw. In a self-satisfied way it felt as if he were destroying their relationship. He lifted his hands, a warm yellow glow emanating around them. As quickly as he could have sneezed, he pushed his power forward with unbelievable force. Grass uprooted from the ground, flowers became airborne, and all of it flowed its way over and under the stone seat towards the back wall which steadily caved in, giving sight to the dome which sat behind, the roof again falling in for the first time in just over three decades. Pillars fell all around the statue as it darkened like it was being singed, seeming to deteriorate before his eyes, and now what once had been beauty had taken on the appearance of something bland and dirty, almost ugly. He stared at it for a while, feeling void and empty of sensation, before orbing back out to the street. He didn't know what he was looking for, a cheap motel maybe, but he didn't particularly want to find them again. Every time he thought about it it hurt, and his anger would rise as he yearned to kill his brother for what he'd done.

He walked a straight path, everything that was in his way found itself telekinetically thrown into the nearest breakable substance, leaving a trail of car alarms and shattered windows behind him. He was lost, lacking direction, a broken man who felt he had nothing left. His whole world had caved in. This deception could be the end of everything. There was no point in pursuing a purpose if those closest to you were going to continually shoot it down.

He stopped in front of a bar, the name Queri flashing above the door in bright neon lights. Normally he would not have stepped foot into a club, in respect for his mother's business, but now he was a desperate man needing to numb the feelings of anger, hatred and jealousy inside of him. He contemplated going inside and made a rash decision to do so as Bianca's image popped back into his mind. He had given her everything she could have asked for, would gladly have given her more, and still she'd turned around and kissed the enemy.

Bringing the blame back upon himself for failing where his brother had so quickly and easily succeeded, he pushed the door open roughly with the palm of his hand and stepped inside.

* * *

"Bianca," Chris laughed, kissing her again, trying to wedge his hands between them and push her away. "What I meant by 'I want to show you something' is something you haven't seen."

"But I like what I have." She pouted. Seeing him smile at the comment, she returned it. "So what is it?"

"Well you know how Wyatt's all 'the future of evil is above ground'?" Chris began. Seeing Bianca's humourless expression he quickly continued: "I thought it would be best to find us somewhere below ground where he can't sense us."

"Which is?" Bianca prompted.

"Here," Chris said, taking a step back and sweeping his arms out. Bianca looked around at the bare walls, giving Chris an inquiring look as she turned back. "Allow me to give you the tour. We're in the Underworld, just underneath and a little to the right of the bay. If you follow me through here…"

Bianca watched him pass and slowly followed him into the next room. Chris was, by far, no real estate expert, but his retail skills highlighted his friendly and somewhat cunning nature. The secondary room was a lot brighter than the first. There appeared to be a natural rock pool formation in the ground, light reflecting off its clean watery surface illuminated by the dozen or so candles laid about it. Smiling at the beauty of something so simple, she followed him into the next room.

"So we have the pool for all your relaxation and cleansing needs," Chris said. "Natural water."

"So you're not just planning on revisiting the first time we met?" she joked.

He rolled his eyes back to her as he stopped. "Doubt it'd be deep enough, and why were you thinking that?"

"'Cause I know how mischievous you are," she teased.

"Thanks," he said, trying to sound offended but unable to hide the smile on his face. "Well maybe you'd feel more comfortable in here."

Brushing his back lightly with her hand, she stepped around him further into the last room on offer. Before her was a large bed covered in rose petals. The bedspread was an elegant golden cover with lace pillows and satin sheets. Taking his hand she backed up towards it, pulling his hand down to her hip and lifting the other to his face, kissing him as she lowered herself back onto it.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mr Halliwell?" she asked.

"I was trying to show you around," Chris answered. "But if you're planning on sampling before agreeing to this then I'm not going to stop you."

Kissing him again as he crawled onto the bed with her, she kept herself propped up on her elbows as she looked around at the petals that adorned the soft cover underneath her.

"I hope you didn't pull apart our garden for this," she said.

"Hmm, maybe one or two sacrificed themselves for a good cause, but I swear I didn't destroy the place."

"Good, cause you know it means a lot to me," she said.

Smiling, Chris nodded, watching as she looked towards her hand, playfully passing it through the mixture on the bed. Carefully she selected one, turning it over in her fingers, putting it back down as she picked up the next petal and lifted it to his face, meticulously brushing it down the bridge of his nose. Getting little reaction from him, she did it again. This time Chris screwed up his nose, twitching it as he raised his hand to rub the itch away.

"You're a tease," he said. She smiled.

"I was just wondering… whether you dropped any thorns amongst those petals."

"No thorns. And no more talk of blood and pain," Chris chastised. Bianca turned her head guiltily. "No dragons, no demons, no Wyatt, just me and you."

Her gaze shifting back to him, he lifted her chin towards him, gently placing his lips to hers. Crawling the rest of the way up to her, Bianca looked at him longingly as he drew back. Lifting her hand up to the back of his head, she pulled him back down towards her.

"I'd like to have more of that," she whispered, pressing her lips hungrily to his again.

* * *

"We should get back," Bianca said. "I don't want things to get bad, and they will if I'm gone too long."

Chris looked at her sadly. "I wish you didn't have to keep running back to do that."

"I'm not," she said, smiling reassuringly. Crawling over to him, she traced a finger along his face. "You showed me I didn't have to. If I can keep up the illusion, he's not going to do any more damage. Wouldn't you rather I pretend instead of one of his minions actually killing?"

"I know – it's the better alternative."

"Then you don't mind me going?" she asked sweetly. He knew she wouldn't appreciate his refusal on the issue.

"As long as I can spend every last second with you."

Placing her hand on his leg, she shimmered them back to the garden inside the park, sliding her arms around him and kissing him one last time before they would have to part. Drawing back, she noticed at first the light look a little bleaker. Stepping back, she curiously looked around Chris and saw the devastation that lay before her, sunset barely making a dint in the area which formed the impression of being awash in grey light. Gasping, she raised her hand to cover her mouth, sealing in the shock.

"What?" Chris asked, bemused as he caught sight of her reaction. Turning he saw what she had. In utter disbelief he wandered further into the garden, kicking the stray debris as if he was trying to convince himself what he was seeing was real. "I don't believe this! This is the lowest he could go. How could he?"

"No, Chris," Bianca said quickly, stepping towards him. "You don't know it was him."

"Who else could it be?" Chris snapped, turning hastily towards her. "What do you think happened here, Bianca? You think someone just dropped an atomic bomb in the middle of Golden Gate Park because it sounded like fun? They don't do that, Bianca!"

"But he wouldn't!" she protested. "It's too random."

"He would," Chris insisted.

Bianca surveyed the damage with sad eyes, Chris taking his frustrations out on the decapitated head, kicking it with rough force into the back wall. Despite not being as powerful as Wyatt, the wear and tear his brother had caused on the substance made the cranium break instantly at the impact. The sight finally settling in, Bianca's thoughts turned towards the possible motives Wyatt could have had for such radical behaviour, and there was only one thing that she could think of that would make it so personal.

"Unless… he knows about us," she said softly.

"I told you he'd find out," Chris said pointedly. "He's got demons and sources crawling all over this city. Any one of them could have seen us. I did everything I could…"

"Are you trying to blame me for this? Chris you know I've sacrificed everything for you! Don't stand there trying to tell me I gave something away."

"I was going to say it wasn't going to be enough to combat such a huge number."

"Still…"

"I'm not blaming you, Bianca," Chris said softly, shaking his head as he walked over to her, gently rubbing her arm as she folded them in front of her.

"Good." She looked him over. "Don't blame yourself either. We didn't know this was going to happen."

"Believe me; I'm placing the entire blame on him."

Lowering her eyes, she tried to think of a solution, a way of repairing or getting around this, but her mind remained openly blank. "How are we going to fix this, Chris? If no-one is safe, not even us, we can't stop him. We can't change things."

"We can," Chris said, taking her hands and lowering them, placing them together as he surrounded them with his. "You believe me, don't you?"

"Yes," she said softly.

"And if I have to kill him, so be it."

"No," she said sternly. "He's your brother, Chris. You can't do that. Let me go see how much he knows before we do anything rash."

"Okay," Chris agreed, leaning in and kissing her. "Be careful."

"I will."

"I love you."

Bianca smiled weakly as she looked at him. It was the first time he'd ever said it to her. Maybe he'd felt the urge to reveal his heart now that they saw the danger they'd faced, yet Bianca still couldn't bring herself to say it. She couldn't admit how much she cared because she feared it would all go wrong, and she'd be the one left feeling hurt and alone.

"See you tomorrow," she said and shimmered out.

When she got there she saw Wyatt sat alone, hunched over the bench in the kitchen, his hand twisting as he embedded a screwdriver into the electronic device that lay before him. Wires lay on the left and right of the device, and as Bianca stepped forward she saw it was a dismantled probe, one he was obviously altering.

"What are you doing?" Bianca demanded.

"Altering the scanner signals," he answered casually.

"Why? What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing. But I'd rather they pick up on witches since I can't seem to trust even those in my own company."

"Is that a passing shot at me?" she inquired.

The door to Wyatt's bedroom opened and she looked over towards the sound, a somewhat attractive woman slinking out through the gap with a lone sheet barely covering her naked body. It didn't take a genius to work out what had been going on.

"Are you coming back to join me?" she asked. Looking up she saw Bianca standing beside him and smiled impishly. "Oh, you brought someone else to play. My, my, you are a kinky one."

Bianca stared at her, aghast, feeling sick to the stomach at the very suggestion she would partake in such a thing. She hadn't come for any kind of sexual encounter, she'd come simply to sort things out with Wyatt. In no way was she ever going to let him control her like that. The more she stared at the woman, the angrier she felt towards him for trying to sabotage everything she valued and yet going around doing as he pleased. He didn't speak a word, and his calmness over the whole thing irritated her, his blasé attitude making her hate him even more for thinking he could do whatever he wanted and it wouldn't affect her. Slamming her hand down on the counter, she lowered her head down to his, speaking directly into his ear, her anger in no way deterring him from the little job he was working on.

"I thought you said you didn't keep women as prizes," she seethed.

"I don't," Wyatt answered, waving his hand over his shoulder and causing the woman to orb away somewhere.

"That's not what it looked like."

"Ooh, am I sensing jealousy, Bianca?" Wyatt said patronizingly. "Why don't you cry about it?"

"I'm not going to cry over some two dollar whore. If you want to go around pleasuring yourself like you're the only man on earth, then by all means, but leave me out of it. You have no right to invade my personal life like that."

"Like what, Bianca? Would you care to confess something to me?" he asked, for the first time looking up towards her. Carefully she took a step back, wondering if she'd unintentionally exposed them. Wyatt stood, stepping towards her. He didn't wait for her to answer, he already knew. "You see when it involves my employees and my family, I think I do. I think I have every right to know what's going on behind my back."

"It's got nothing to do with this. I'm not doing anything wrong."

"Not doing anything wrong? Ha! You're running around cavorting with my little brother to destroy the very thing we worked so hard to get. Did you forget what we were fighting for, Bianca? Freedom from this oppressive morality. Don't you want that anymore?"

"Of course I do. That's the point. If we can just work together—"

"I'm not tainting this mission simply because you want to fuck my brother."

"You're seriously not going to listen to me, are you?" Bianca argued. "I don't know who you are anymore, Wyatt Halliwell. You used to be full of consideration and decency, not self-centred degeneracy."

"And you used to be obedient."

"You egotistical bastard, don't think you can control me. You don't have that power, and I won't let you! I'm doing something for myself for a change; I don't have to answer to your every whim."

"Don't you? Strange… that's what I thought I employed you for; not to be an ungrateful and Machiavellian exile who thinks it's fun to screw with my head."

"You have no idea," Bianca said, shaking her head.

"Stop denying it, Bianca. You know what you've done. I saw it with my own eyes. There's only one reason you're still standing there now, one reason why I haven't killed you, because you're now close enough to bring Chris over to our side. Do that and I might consider forgiving this treachery."

"He won't do it," she insisted.

"Then lie to him. You obviously have no problem doing that, seeing as you think every man's just a toy on your string."

"That's not true! And I won't betray Chris like that."

"Maybe I should have just left you to suffer at the hands of the Phoenix," Wyatt said coldly, turning back towards the probe and walking back to finish the job. "Don't think you're getting free access to anywhere again."

"I hate you," Bianca said quietly, visibly upset now that she'd seen and heard everything she could take, the mere mention of the Phoenix bringing back every horrid memory and possible scenario of what could have happened if he wasn't there. She couldn't believe he would take all that back, years of her life, his friendship, all dissipating before her because of something she'd done.

"Feeling's mutual," he said, grabbing the screwdriver and slamming the point down into the bench.

Hurriedly she left before he changed his mind and decided she'd be better off dead instead, still furious at what he had done, but now just as upset at the little value he regarded her with.


	27. Chapter 27

**2026 **_cont._

"Bianca, what are you doing here? I thought you weren't seeing me till tomorrow," Chris said, surprised.

"C'mon," she said, seizing his hand, pulling him with her.

"What? Where are we going?"

"To stop him."

"Weren't you just there?" Halting abruptly, he pulled her back. "Bianca, what happened?"

"He knows everything. He doesn't give a damn who he hurts, he's on the warpath. He's completely lost his mind. We have to fight back. I know he's got some people over near Twin Peaks. We're going to end this now before it goes any further."

"Bianca, it's dark outside. You can't fight with no visibility. It's suicide."

"I've done it plenty of time before. I'm a Phoenix, that's my job."

"Bianca," Chris chastised. He felt her grip tighten around his hand as she yanked him towards her. "Bianca!"

Shimmering them to the edge of Corona Heights Park, Chris saw he was right. No light shone here except that of the moon, and a pale ghastly glow was what it shrouded this land with. They heard the scuffling of Quantos ahead - tall, lean demons with darkened skin who had the stern facial features of pygmies, bones running through their noses and a skeletal framed ribcage that could open to devour their victims. They were an extremely dangerous species, and Chris realised it must have taken some extraordinary talking from Wyatt to convince them to work for him considering they never thought of anyone but themselves.

"What do you think this is? Some kind of playpen?" Bianca asked, directing the question at the demons.

"The entire city's our playground," what appeared to be the leader of them answered.

"Really," Bianca said flatly. "Because I could have sworn you were meant to take orders from me or Wyatt now."

"You have instruction?" The demon looked from her to Chris as he stepped next to her. "You deceitful, spiteful witch. You've crossed!"

"And all the better for it," she said, raising her hand and throwing an energy ball towards him.

Hitting him squarely in the chest, he fell to the ground, the others of his kind stirring at the trouble she was causing. As they rushed forward, Bianca and Chris took the divide and conquer approach, splitting apart from one another to lessen the numbers. Whilst Bianca barely moved to the right before facing one of the Quantos, Chris dashed to the left.

Lifting her foot, Bianca side-kicked the Quanto nearest her. Another trying to approach her from behind while she steadied, she gathered enough force into the swing of her arm to connect her elbow with its jaw and cause a significant impact. Rushing to disarm another few, Bianca kicked forward, knocking one as a second got a shot in on her, his large foot coming down on her ankle.

Chris stopped in his tracks as Bianca yelped. Swinging his arm, he sent the foe telekinetically sailing out of the way, giving him a clear enough view of his girlfriend to see she was still standing, although hobbling slightly trying to shake the pain away. Looking for an escape as the Quantos turned their attention to him, he spied a low hanging branch on a tree nearby. Racing towards the trunk and trying to propel himself off it, his fingers caught hold of the branch and slipped. The first Quanto diving for him, Chris looked up at the branch and with all the energy he could muster jumped for it. He felt a surge of triumph as his fingers fastened tightly around the branch, the attacking Quanto sliding along the dirt underneath.

Now Chris had another problem. He'd noticed a few of these demons were carrying spears, and the next Quanto waiting to attack him was one of these armed foes. He wasn't up high enough to be out of its reach. Looking up at the branch, he strained to pull himself up, but to no avail. He didn't have the strength in his arms. His body swinging slightly, he got another idea. Trying to work up some momentum, he successfully collided with the head of the second Quanto, swinging his joined feet to the side to knock the weapon in a different direction on his return. He barely heard the cracking to his left, instead enjoying the defeat and trying to swing his way into getting on top of the branch. Again the crack sounded, louder this time, and the branch came down, Chris with it. Stumbling as he landed, his momentum having carried him away from the branch that crashed behind him, Chris did not see the Quanto in front of him until it was too late. Its ribcage was already wide open, the pinkish flesh clinging to the walls of its body like leeches. The bones protruded from the opening, a parallel row of sharp pointed weapons that served to puncture the bodies of their victims. Inside, the slimy, rope-like intestine uncoiled like a snake, reaching out like a famished tongue and twisting its way around Chris' body. He couldn't move his arms, bound by the extension which slowly reeled him back, dragging him towards his fated death. Struggling but finding no way out, Chris closed his eyes to the snarling face before him.

"Chris!" Bianca shouted, conjuring an athame and throwing it through the air. Cleanly it sliced through the intestine, severing the tie between Chris and the monster.

Chris shook off what now lay loosely around his elbows, stepping out of the deadly mess and giving it a look of disgust. Casting his gaze back to the fallen branch, he called it into his hand, grasping hold if it as it orbed from the ground to him. Spinning, he rammed it through the internal section of the now vulnerable Quanto, watching it cry out and fall back before feeling safe enough to call out to Bianca.

"We need potions for this, Bianca! We can't beat them."

"If the numbers are fewer, it'll be easier," she shouted back.

Looking dejectedly at the number that remained, Chris knew he had to do something drastic. He couldn't leave her to do this on her own, yet staying would force them to endure a highly un-winnable battle. Waving another Quanto away with his hand, employing his telekinesis ability for this, he willed his mind to think up something.

"_Take this rhyme through curses black, _

_Save us both from this attack,_

_Cull these demons all the same,_

_Reduce the few till one remain."_

Pleased with himself, Chris watched as one by one the Quantos blinked away like bright shining stars, together floating towards the one body. But his inexperience cost him skill, the combination proving to make the one Quanto left stronger and more powerful. His spell having deceived him, the one remaining happened to be directly in front of the already injured Bianca.

She felt a crack against the back of her legs as the Quanto whipped her with the bridge of the spear. Her weakened ankle unable to hold her entire weight, she fell back, her head colliding roughly with the ground as it snapped back. Wincing at the pain that ran right up the back of her body, she lifted her head to see the stick of the spear, seconds later gasping as she felt the point ram through the middle of her body.

Chris watched on in horror as the one Quanto skewered his girlfriend to the ground. This wasn't how it was meant to happen, she'd said the fewer the number, the easier it would be.

"No!" he shouted, racing towards her.

Swinging his arm at the demon, he sent the Quanto flying back towards the tree he'd earlier fallen from, what remained of the broken branch still attached to the trunk impaling the Quanto, his head dropping as it made contact with and pierced vital organs.

"Bianca," Chris said, dropping to his knees beside her. She reached for his hand, her breathing short. "I told you this would happen. I said—"

"Chris," she interrupted. "I need help."

Frowning, Chris looked her over quickly, working his hand out from her grip and slipping both beneath her, trying to lift her. The short cry of pain escaping her lips told him it wasn't a good idea. Dropping his hands back to the ground, he slid back and placed them on top of her, looking quickly over his shoulder as he heard the sounds of more demons shimmering in.

"We've got to get you out of here," he said quickly.

Orbing them both to his bedroom, he made sure that she would land on the bed wanting something soft beneath her to support her. Her body convulsing slightly as she coughed, she lowered her head back to the pillows. Lifting her hand from her midriff, she saw blood stained her fingers. Chris grabbed her hand, looking at the discolouration, his gaze turning to the source. The injury was getting worse. He shouldn't have moved her, but he knew he had to to get her out of harm's way. Lowering her hand, he put his own over the wound, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate. Opening them again he saw it hadn't worked. Shaking his hands he tried again.

"Why the hell can't I do this?" he cried in frustration. "I just told you how much I loved you, it should work! I hate being a whitelighter. There's no point if you can't use the powers."

Taking his hands, Bianca pulled them away from her body. Everything was beginning to feel like a great effort, her breath still hitching as her muscles clung tightly to the spear inside her.

"Get… get Gazu. He's… eastern quarter… the Underworld. Tell him… tell him what… happened. He knows me. He'll know… what to do."

Nodding, Chris squeezed her hand reassuringly, orbing out and leaving her alone in his apartment. Bianca stared at the roof, wondering exactly how she'd put herself in this position. It hadn't been worth it. The amount of times she'd gotten herself in trouble because she was furious with Chris, or with Wyatt, it wasn't doing her any good. And now because she'd been so blinded by her anger she might soon be dead, just the remains of some poor witch lying on her boyfriend's bed because she couldn't control her emotions. But wasn't that what being a Phoenix was all about? Being able to control yourself completely? She'd never been able to, although Michael could. Or maybe it was just the fact he didn't care about anything. That's probably why he'd found it so easy.

Her muscles seizing up completely, she erupted into another coughing fit. She didn't want to, because whenever she did she could feel blood spill onto her hands like free-flowing water. She wondered if holding her breath would do anything, but doubted she could.

Chris soon returned with the sorcerer, and yet another witch in tow. Bianca gave them a brief glance before having to close her eyes. Her head was starting to hurt immensely on top of the other pain, and she was sure it was because of her erratic breathing. She felt cool hands touch her, inspecting the wound. She didn't have to look to know who it was.

"Looks like it just missed the artery, but we've still got the puncture device to contend with," Gazu said. He nodded towards the witch on his left. "Blow her up."

"No! What? No!" Chris cried, looking frantically from Bianca to Gazu.

The witch beside Gazu lifted his fingers, a simple flick enacting the molecular combustion. There was a blast against Bianca's body and then she disappeared, nothing but remnants of black ash dispersing in every direction. The spear collapsed across the red stain marking the bed, all that had been left behind of her. Gazu made a quick grab for the weapon, the long stick vanishing in his hands as Chris charged towards him, his hands grabbing the front of the sorcerer's clothing and shaking him.

"You were supposed to save her, not kill her!" he shouted.

Gazu nodded over his shoulder, Chris turning his head as he heard the rustling noise behind him. Like a small whirlwind, the black particles were circling the bed, laying to piece bit by bit as Bianca's body reformed across the sheets. Pushing the sorcerer away, Chris let go of Gazu and dropped down next to the bed, his hands gently touching her arm, her face. She was real alright.

"Bianca?"

"I hate when that happens," she attempted to joke, the half-laugh which followed sounding tired and hollow.

"Well, the wound's closed up," Gazu said, peering at the location of the puncture. He looked proudly at the pair. "I thought that might happen. Anything else that needs tending to?"

"She hurt her ankle," Chris said quickly, pointing down to the one he remembered getting injured.

Gazu put his hands around it securely, squeezing with ever increasing tension as he looked up to Bianca, watching to see if there was any reaction on her face. She looked worn, but there was no evidence she'd done anything to it. He couldn't even feel a break.

"Any pain?" he asked.

"No."

"Probably fixed that too." He looked back to Chris. "Was she standing or lying down when she got hurt?"

"She was on the ground," Chris said.

"She fell?"

"Kinda." Chris looked at Bianca. He hadn't really seen what had happened until that imminent moment where the spear had been driven through her.

"I was knocked off balance and, yes, I fell," Bianca explained.

"Did you hit your head?" Gazu asked.

"I think so," Bianca said without conviction. She wasn't sure what exactly the pain in her head was stemming from anymore.

"Keep an eye on her," Gazu said to Chris. "Keep her awake for the next few hours just to make sure she hasn't got a concussion. After that, when you're sure she's not going to drift into some kind of coma, you can let her rest."

"I will," Chris said, brushing a hand over her hair as he took her hand with the other.

Just as he had the previous year, Gazu left quickly and silently, the witch he'd brought with him vanishing at the same time. Chris looked sympathetically back to Bianca, watching and feeling her snuggle into his hand as well as the pillow.

"Can I get you something? You want a drink?" he asked.

"Yeah, but… you're not supposed to be leaving me."

"I was going to ask you a favour first."

"What?"

"Sing for me."

"Are you insane? I can't—"

"I'm not asking you to sing an aria. I don't care what it is. You can sing a nursery rhyme if you want. Just be loud enough so I can hear you." Standing up, he walked around the bed towards the door, pausing to look at her. "Go on. Sing me 'Twinkle twinkle little star'. You know that one, right? And don't stop til I come back or I'm going to think you passed out on me."

Laughing, she pressed her hand to her stomach, the muscles still tense and tight there. Chris waited patiently until she started, first mockingly, then easing into a rhythmic recitation. Her hand idly drifting back towards the pillows, she continued singing until Chris returned, struggling at points to remember words which wouldn't come to mind.

"You skipped a verse," Chris teased as he re-entered.

"I thought it only had one."

"Well I never asked for it to be inspiring, so it doesn't matter."

He placed the glass of water on the side table, watching as she turned towards him, lifting herself slightly to take a sip then dropping onto the pillows again. Of anything he could read on her face, the most apparent expression was that of relief. It made him feel as if he'd done something right for once, something that truly mattered. She looked up at him with doe brown eyes and for the first time he could see innocence and vulnerability behind them.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"It was nothing," Chris said bashfully, his gaze drifting down to his foot as he shifted it fretfully.

"Chris," she said, her voice barely above a whisper now as she tried to regain his attention. "I love you too."

Smiling, he brushed back the hair from her forehead and kissed it, rising again as he looked down at her. He was pleased to hear her say it, knew she meant it, and now he thought it was all worth it. No matter what they went through because of Wyatt, they'd stick together.

"Thank you for telling me," he said quietly. "Just don't wait until you're dying next time to do so, okay?"

She laughed. "Don't worry, I won't. And I plan on sticking around for a while."

"Just do that reform thing," Chris said.

"Doesn't work all the time," Bianca said shaking her head as she snuggled into the pillow again. "Just on that one power. Mind you I don't think every witch is going to be so kind as to give me that kind of fight advantage."

"No," Chris agreed. "But you aren't going to be fighting again… at least not for a while. You've got to take care of yourself. Stay here and rest."

"You're asking me to fight you," Bianca said determinedly, lifting herself up slightly. The exasperation left her face as she collapsed wearily back to the bed. "But I'm too tired."

"See, that's my point."

"Okay, you win. Stop arguing with me, it's going to make it worse."

"Just behave," he said, smiling. Bianca mumbled a response. She wasn't used to having someone else look after her when she was hurt. Usually she'd just go on, but Chris was resolute that she'd rest instead. It was just one other thing she'd have to concede and learn how to do.

* * *

Chris was almost starting to believe life was beginning to settle into some kind of normalcy… almost. Days had passed and the city had fallen into some deathly quiet slumber, as if anticipating some kind of attack from Wyatt. But he, too, seemed to have disappeared off the scene. Each day Chris went to work and found himself staying there the entire time, not having to interrupt his shift to chase after some demon or dragon. At night he'd return home to find Bianca waiting for him patiently. He could see she was getting stronger again and knew it wouldn't be long before she returned to her own place; but the quietness of the world outside disturbed him, and he wasn't about to let her step into some awaiting trap.

Curious as to what his older brother was up to, he sensed for Wyatt and located him in an area he'd never visited before. Orbing outside the building, he landed in what appeared to be a carpark filled with gravel and loose rocks. He wondered if anyone was even in the large sandstone building that this remotely empty carpark belonged to. Approaching the building he saw low-hanging blue shades covered the few windows, the roof itself jutting up in flats and points like there were four churches connected and sitting side by side. The disturbance around the base of the walls made Chris think it sunk to lower levels than it appeared. Although Chris didn't know it, he was right. It was just as deceptive and hidden as its inhabitants.

Successfully sneaking his way inside, employing the stealth tactics Bianca had been teaching him, Chris found the interior to be even more boring in its attempt to requisition lack of attention to the surroundings. The walls were all bare, plastered with pale paints of either white or grey. Overhead the fluorescent lights flickered their overly powerful ambient light, bestowing a feeling of dread like awaiting a pinnacle point of terror in a horror movie.

Chris moved down the corridors, weaving this way and that, unsure of where exactly he was going. Hearing voices heading towards him, Chris looked around the open corridor he'd trapped himself in. There was nowhere to hide, no exit, but a sole door stood further ahead in the frame of the wall. It was closer to the voices but he had to chance it. Orbing from his current position to his only hope of not being discovered, he found it locked. Shaking the latch a few more times just to make sure, he thrust his palms against the door loudly in frustration.

"Dammit!" he cursed.

Glancing up the hallway, he saw two people rounding the corner. Pushing against the door again, he realised it was probably locked from the other side. Concentrating on the handle, he brushed his fingers together and heard a satisfactory click sound from within. Depressing the handle, the door opened and Chris leapt inside, closing it quickly behind him. The two voices stopped right outside the doorway, and for a moment Chris thought they would enter and catch him out, if they had not already seen him, but the pair remained oblivious.

"You know if Abe had still been around he wouldn't be so inviting as to let that witch walk right in."

"Well he was never that interested in playing cat and mouse. He was much more direct and involved when it came to kills."

Chris listened silently through the door. The name sounded oddly familiar, but he wasn't quite sure where he'd heard it before.

"I wish we could have hung around to see what he wanted."

"Yeah, and if we did that Gina would have our necks. You know she doesn't like to be late. 'Every second counts' she'd say. 'You don't take this seriously enough. Do you want to die?'" The man sighed and Chris heard them walk away.

Sliding back out the door, he turned down the corridor they'd just come from. There was a good chance this 'witch' was Wyatt, and if he could just find him…

"There you are," Chris said quietly, catching sight of his brother inside a small, gloomy looking room.

Chris pressed himself as close to the wall as he could to listen without being seen. There were only two men in there – Wyatt, who was pacing the floor with a rigid self-important stride; and another man with darker hair, a tank top which showed off his muscular figure and the tattoo on his arm, who sat back calmly in a chair, his feet on the desk, his hands clasped in his lap as he watched Wyatt with a wry smile.

"You're going to wear a hole in my floor," he observed.

"I'm thinking," Wyatt responded.

"Well think a little faster. I don't appreciate my time being wasted when I can find better things to do."

Wyatt stopped, arching an eyebrow as he looked at him. "I'm sure that's the case."

The man sighed, frustrated with Wyatt's stalling. Lowering his feet and placing his elbows in their place, he leant forward.

"What exactly is it you want?"

"Ah, more to the matter of what you want." Having lifted his finger at the man, Wyatt turned it towards himself, tapping his chin lightly in a mock imitation of thought. "I have a proposal for you."

"I'm all ears," the man said, throwing his hands in the air and sinking back into his chair.

"Good," Wyatt said agreeably, looking over to him. "First, of course, my demands, what I require. I'm sure you're a good businessman and can understand the advantages of this."

"Care to explain a little further?"

"Well, you see, it's really quite simple – I give you something and in return you give me exclusive access and use of your assassins."

"That's not how we work. If you want someone killed –"

"Ah, but this is a special case. I'm not some spiteful child looking to get even with someone else. I seek to vindicate this world of the wrongs it has committed and push us towards a new and better society."

"Are you running for president?" the other man mocked. "That's a ridiculous assumption unless you're trying to wage some kind of war."

"Wars aren't made for acceptance. They're driven by this nation for profit and power, neither of which I am seeking. Yes, power has been given to me, but I've had to bear that burden since birth. It is time that we united our abilities to bring about the downfall of those who have unjustly cheated and deceived their way to the top and abuse people's lives whilst playing their petty games as if they were God. Your coven are the most notorious assassins out there. Your witches are the pinnacle to success in this venture. I beseech you to provide me with infinite access to your resources for surely you will profit by the end of this. The bounty is your main concern, is it not?"

"I can see you've done your homework," the other man said, closely inspecting Wyatt's full form. "But there is the matter of the initial contract. What you're talking about could take months, years, even decades. I'm not prepared to let my team work for free."

"Of course not. This is why I wish to instigate a trade. It may not be in their best interests, but it will be in yours."

"I doubt it will peak my interest," the man returned. Wyatt remained quietly confidant, so much so that it would unsettle anyone who watched him. "What kind of leverage would you have for such an onerous task?"

"Bianca," Wyatt replied shortly. The other man's face remained blank. "Don't look at me as if you don't know who she is. Just because your coven tried to bury her as some dirty secret, the one that got away, think of the prestige that would befall you if I just handed her straight back into your palm. Do with her what you will; I'm sure she's long overdue for some kind of punishment. That little black mark can be wiped away forever and you won't have anything to fear from the outside world anymore. So do we have a deal?"

After some thought, the other man agreed. All Chris knew was Bianca was now in grave danger, and the sooner he got her to sever all ties with Wyatt, the better. Before he could be spotted, Chris orbed back to his apartment, calling Bianca's name.


	28. Chapter 28

**2026 **_cont._

"Bianca!" Chris shouted.

She wasn't in the bedroom nor the bathroom. Racing up the hallway, he switched direction as he faintly heard her voice.

"I'm here," she said.

Staring down at the picture in her hands, she smiled. It was hard to imagine Wyatt and Chris ever having been kids, but here she had photographic proof. Chris stopped behind her, watching, seeing she was perfectly calm and in no immediate danger despite being somewhere else than where he expected her to be.

"You're up?" he queried.

"Yes, I wasn't paralysed," she said playfully. She glanced back at the photo. "You two were cute."

"That was a long time ago," Chris said, taking the frame from her hands and putting it back in its place. She looked at him quizzically. "How much do you know, Bianca? How much has he told you about what he's up to?"

"Who? What?"

"Wyatt."

"Only as much as he knows," she said, shrugging. "Why?"

"Did you know he was making a trade? I caught him talking to some guy about… getting assassins or something. He was going to trade you."

Bianca looked at him with even more confusion. "Me? What? What exactly did he say, Chris?"

"I don't know, something about you being some dirty secret and him giving you back to them."

Her eyes widened. "Back? Chris, who was he talking to? Who was he talking to, Chris?"

"A tall guy, dark hair," Chris said, straining to provide an accurate description. He caught her left hand and spied the birthmark on her wrist. It was the same as what he'd originally thought was a tattoo on the man he'd seen. "He had a mark exactly the same as that." Pulling forward her right arm, he pointed to her upper forearm where he'd seen it. "There."

Bianca ripped her hands away from him, taking a step back. She knew exactly who it was. Every Phoenix bore the birthmark, although in different locations. Bianca's was on the inside of her left wrist. Her mother's was at the nape of her neck, proudly displayed between the shoulder blades. But it was Michael's who lay on the upper inside of his forearm. Her fingers had brushed across it many a time. It made her sick to remember. She was not as concerned with Wyatt's betrayal as she was scared out of her mind at the prospect of having to face her ex-lover again.

"He's going to kill me, Chris," she said, panicked.

"He's not," Chris said, grabbing hold of her. "I won't let him anywhere near you. But you've got to get away, okay? Go grab your things and we'll go to that place I found in the Underworld. He's not going to find you there."

She went to say something but stopped herself, meekly nodding. She may have told him about the Phoenix, but he knew nothing about Michael. That was buried deep inside her. The only person who had ever unearthed it was Wyatt, and now he was using it against her.

Shimmering out of Chris' grasp, she reappeared in the bedroom of her apartment. Everything felt foreign as she looked around quickly, realising most of the things that caught her sight had been given to her by Wyatt. It was all bribery, one endless lie to keep her caged until the opportune moment when he could use her for his own devices. She swallowed hard as her mind told her that's all anyone ever wanted from her – to be used and discarded at their will.

Pressing a hand to her forehead, she looked towards the closet and drawers. Throwing open the sliding door she was able to find the small backpack she had acquired years ago buried up the back. It was enough to carry the little she had back then, before she knew Wyatt, but now there was so much more she knew it would be a struggle to fit everything in. She decided upon taking only that which she needed and loved best. She began haphazardly throwing in clothes – pyjamas, tops, skirts, pants, underwear – not caring for the fabric or whether they were wrinkled. She frowned as she looked at the pile of shoes stacked in a small mound in the closest corner of the wardrobe's interior. She couldn't take them all – she wouldn't be able to fit them in the bag. She had to settle for one pair. Sneakers would have been logical, but she didn't want to give up her boots. Sloppily tying the laces together, she slung them across the bag strap and hauled it onto her back. Just a few more things and she would be done. Traipsing down the hallway, she rounded the corner into the living room.

"Hello, Bianca."

The voice startled her, making her jump guiltily as the bag fell from her shoulder onto the chair. She felt like she'd just been caught sneaking out. She turned to look at him, stopping and wondering why she was acting so inhibited in her own home. She lived there, not him. He had no right to preside over her or this place in such an authoritative manner.

"I've been waiting for you," he continued. With a passing look of judgement, she silently turned back to her bag, busying herself with clips and zippers as she continued to pack her belongings. "You're not going to speak to me now?"

Pausing in her activities, she let the words sink in, asking herself the same question. The thought occurred to her that he hadn't listened to her last time she spoke to him. Fury sparked as she remembered what she had done in retaliation – she almost died because of him. At the same time as she was angry with him, she also feared him. If he held so much sway and power over her then she could be in a much worse situation in a matter of seconds. As much as she didn't want to get him mad, she didn't want to distract herself from her objective by poisoning the current moment with a few callous words. It would be better if she just pretended he wasn't there. And so she ignored him, resuming what she was doing.

"Surely you haven't lost your tongue since I saw you last."

"No, but I almost lost my life!" she snapped at him. Cursing inwardly at her outburst, she avoidably looked back to her bag, pushing down the contents to make room for one more thing.

"I heard about that," he said softly.

"Just shows how little you care," she mumbled. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she looked up at him. "So how long did you wait? Minutes? Seconds?"

"Hours, days," Wyatt waved his hand dramatically in the air. "What does it matter?" He pushed himself up out of the large padded white armchair. "It's all relative."

"Maybe in your tiny little world. No-one put you in charge, Wyatt."

"I didn't claim I was." He looked at her curiously, trying to determine what she was thinking. "You weren't intending on disrupting any more of my demons?"

Bianca shoved the last thing into the bag, closing it up. "I had no intention of doing anything except leaving."

"To where?"

"None of your business."

"I think it is," he said crossly. She didn't need to say anything – her eyes telling the whole story of anger, pain, hatred, frustration and betrayal as she glared at him. "Why?"

"I'm not going to play your pawn piece anymore," she said, setting her jaw. "I'm quitting. I don't want anything to do with this any more, or you."

"So my brother finally got to you," Wyatt observed. "What did he say to you, Bianca? What were those magic words he used to convince you to turn away?"

"He didn't say anything," Bianca mumbled, wrapping her hand around the straps of the bag.

"He must have said something to make you so eager to go," Wyatt insisted.

She turned and glared at him, watching as he came closer until he was only a step or two away from her. Slower and louder she repeated herself, emphasising every single word.

"He didn't say anything."

His head twitched slightly as he studied her, cautious as to just how far he could push her, but his desperation to know urged him on.

"You're lying," he stated.

"No," Bianca retorted. Hearing a noise behind her, she looked around and saw a shining blue bubbled barrier had surrounded both of them. He'd put up his shield, caging them both in, and only he had the power to bring it down. "What are you doing? Let me out!"

"No!" Wyatt shouted. "Tell me! Tell me what he said!"

"Nothing!" she screamed back at him. "He didn't say anything! It was all you! The only one to blame is yourself!"

Lifting his hand forcefully, he backhanded her across the face, his shield lowering as he sent her flying across the room and sprawling on the floor. Tears springing to her eyes, she lifted herself from the floor, pressing a hand to her cheek as she looked over to him. His whole body had become stiff, his expression rigid and determined fuelled by anger and jealousy she did not understand.

"What are you going to do, Wyatt?" she asked angrily, sniffling as she tried to keep from crying in front of him. She couldn't let that kind of weakness take her over. "Beat me until I stay? Or just kill me like everyone else you can't handle?"

"Don't make me hurt you," he seethed through gritted teeth.

"Open your eyes, Wyatt. You already have."

He didn't answer, simply staring at her as if trying to process what he'd done. He looked lost – not knowing what to do or say, not comprehending what had happened. There was no way she could save him now, everything was sliding downhill too fast with no way of recovery. Sniffling, she made one last effort to point him in the right direction, an apology of sorts as she came to terms with what she was about to do.

"I tried so hard to make it work for you, so hard to be what you needed me to be, but you've gone too far now. I can't try any harder to help you."

He watched her stand, cautiously moving towards her bag. He tried to tell himself he didn't care, that he didn't need her, tried to convince himself with every fibre of his being that he hated her and would be better off without her, but his heart kept yearning for her to stay. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was before him, too proud to tell her not to go. The words hung on his lips like air, the hatred of himself beginning to burn inside him at his incapability of doing anything right as he longed to hear her tell him it would all be okay.

Composing herself, Bianca picked up her bag. She couldn't bear to look at him. She had promised herself that she would never abandon him, but what choice did she have? He'd become affluently volatile – rash, impulsive, violent, demanding, irrational, power hungry – much more badly than he'd ever been. If she stayed she'd be risking her life… again; and not just that this time but her own personal security, comfort and happiness. It was better to run – run like she always did when she couldn't handle the situation anymore. Hoisting the strap on her shoulder, she drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for those final words.

"Goodbye, Wyatt," she said, almost breathing the words out. "Don't…"

She lifted her head. No matter what she told him not to do, she knew he wouldn't listen anyway. Without looking at him she shimmered out.

He kicked the corner of the coffee table in frustration, running his hands back through his hair as he turned to survey the chair he'd been sitting in upon her arrival. Everything he had given her, it was all here. Resuming his seated position, he clasped the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, the rest of his fingers sliding up his forehead as he lowered his head into his hand. His head throbbed, his heart ached and he didn't know what to do. He felt as if he'd just wasted the past four years of his life – clinging to a dream that he'd be able to make the perfect world, to find happiness through love and the redemption he sought. Instead it felt like he had ruined it all, pursuing an ideal that was never going to cross into reality. He needed guidance – someone that could point him in the right direction. But he had no-one left to turn to now. All he had was an empty apartment and a thin semblance of importance, with a vague idea of what he could do to get what he really wanted.

* * *

Chris dipped the cloth into the pool of water in the Underworld cavern he had found. He noted the water wasn't very cool; the few ice cubes that he had been able to muster up were already melting inside. He brought the cloth back to Bianca, handing it over as she smiled appreciatively from the bed. Raising it to her face, she flinched at the sudden coldness before pressing it more firmly to the spot where Wyatt had hit her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Chris questioned with concern. "I'm so going to kill him next time I see him."

"No," Bianca protested quickly. "Don't do that. It won't solve anything. Someone will be right there to take his place."

"What am I meant to do? He hit you!"

"He hit you as well, or did you forget that?" she asked, eyes blazing.

"Hey, that's cause he was playing 'I'm the Golden Child and you don't matter'. He had no reason to hit you!"

"He did," she said adversely. Sighing, quickly trying to change the story from her to him to avoid any further questions, she looked at him disquietly and with care. "Look… I just don't want to see you get hurt, okay? He has a multitude of powers at his disposal, plus hundreds of demons. He could use anything against you and easily win."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I mean it, Chris. He's dangerous. And if he really has got the Phoenix on his side…"

"They're not working for him. They haven't got you."

She stared into his eyes, knowing he was right. The flecks of green showed nothing but reassurance. Turning her attention away, she looked around the room – her humble abode for… however long. Did she really expect to stay hidden away here forever? Was that any kind of life to lead whilst Wyatt destroyed the rest of the city?

"Chris, this is a bad plan," she said, voicing her thoughts.

"Bianca, listen," he said softly, shifting towards her and brushing his hand over her knee. "You're perfectly safe here. They aren't going to come after you."

"What about when we leave?" she questioned, lowering the wet cloth. "You can't expect me to be caged here forever and be happy. I know what it's like to be restricted, I've been there before. I can't do it again."

"Are you saying this is my fault now?"

Bianca shook her head. "We haven't thought it through."

"I did, okay? He's up there, we're down here. That's all that matters. I can find my way around here for supplies. I found ice, didn't I?"

Looking down at the cloth in her hand, she smiled. "You did, although I don't know how or where."

"Our little neighbour pointed me in the right direction. He's been very helpful for a bad guy."

"You have demon buddies now do you?" she asked humorously, smiling as she looked back to him.

"Yes," he answered. She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "It's convenient. I mean Gith is, well… a demon of desire. You want something bad enough, he makes it easier to find."

"That's how you found Gazu so quick, isn't it?" Bianca cocked her head thoughtfully. Chris nodded timidly. "Then I should be grateful to him for helping me too."

"Well I don't know if he's the kinda guy you should show gratitude for, but at least he's honest."

"Maybe it's time we start being truthful as well," she said, placing the cloth aside. "We can't keep lying to ourselves and thinking hiding down here will keep us safe, let alone the rest of the world. We need to find a way to stop Wyatt."

"We did already ripple the water. He doesn't have you to help him anymore. I don't think he was ever expecting that."

"He was going to throw me away, Chris. Of course he did."

"Well I can't just come up with a plan from the top of my head! I've been trying for years! Why don't you think of something?"

Folding her arms crossly, Bianca leant back. He was being ridiculously demanding – but she knew he always had, it was just her stubbornness that egged him on. She tried to weigh out all the possibilities of what they could do, but their short term solution wasn't any help.

"What if I go back?" she asked.

"Bianca, no. I can't let you. You said it yourself – he'll kill you."

"No," she said, trying to give him a reassuring smile as she lifted herself back up. "He doesn't want me. He wants power and prestige so he's going to trade me off to the Phoenix to try and get that."

"And what? You'll just walk away?" he inquired mistrustfully. Her smile faded as her gaze drifted down and she remained silent. "Bianca, see what I'm talking about? It's too dangerous."

"Then if I can't do anything, it has to be you," she said, lifting her eyes to his. "What are you able to do?"

Chris shrugged. "I've tried everything."

"Baby," she started, wetting her lips as she inched towards him, wrapping her hands around his. "You haven't. There's one thing you can do that he can't. He told me so. What advantage do you have over him?"

He searched her eyes with his own as if he could find the answer in them. It was difficult for him to believe he had any power stronger than Wyatt's after feeling inferior for so long – but it was that feeling that had driven him to gain the knowledge.

"Spell casting," he finally answered.

"That's why you wanted the book," Bianca realised.

"That's why he keeps it away from me," Chris responded.

"Then I have to go back. If I can't get the book, I can at least try for the Grimoire. If he's going to send me back to the Phoenix, that's where it is. My mother has it. I don't really want to see her again, but it's not like I have a choice. We need something to use against him."

"You'll never get it back to me," Chris disagreed. "Besides, isn't that book full of dark magic? It'll backfire. Halliwell spells are the strongest ones."

"Well then I'll cast it. God, Chris—"

"Hey," he said quickly, fastening hold of her. "I don't want you risking your life for something that's not going to work. We'll get the book. I'll get the book."

She swallowed hard, looking at him with dead seriousness. "You don't even know what's in it."

"I'll find something."

He loosened his hold on her, his hands sliding around her back as he pulled her in and kissed her temple. Leaning to the side, he pulled her down onto the bed with him, resting his head on the pillow as she rested hers on his chest. Lightly he brushed her arm as he stared up at the bare ceiling, his mind running over the same thought but not knowing how to go from where he was to achieving what he needed to.

"When did this all start, Chris? When did it all go so bad?" Bianca asked quietly.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I can't even remember half of it. It feels like one never-ending day no matter how much time passes."

"He can't always have been like this."

"He was."

Bianca shifted her head to look up at him. "So he was hell bent on destroying the world when he was five?"

She felt his chest move as he laughed. "No, more hell bent on destroying my Tonka toys."

She smiled. "You see what I'm getting at, don't you? There had to be a time or place that triggered this, that made him want to be so violent against everyone."

"Human nature?"

"No. Chris, c'mon, you're from the same family. You're not doing it. What made him so different?"

"You really like to make me think, don't you?"

Sliding up his body, she lowered her lips to his, kissing him gently. "You know I'll make it worth it."

"And you really know how to pressure a guy," he teased. She smiled back at him, looking at him inquiringly. "Don't hover there, you're distracting."

"Sorry," she said, pushing herself away. He caught hold of her before she could move back too far.

"He did say something… about what happened before I was born. It was in-between all the bravado and I-hate-my-brother speech that he gave earlier this year."

"You remember?"

"Yeah, well, when someone's beating the living shit out of you you kind of don't forget what they said," Chris joked. She gave him a sympathetic smile. "But he said something about there being no-one to protect him, that they were all too vulnerable. Of course he tried to blame me – anyone but himself. I wouldn't doubt that he found it convenient because of the timing but… the thing is, he mentioned something bad happened, Bianca. He said that everybody was after him. Do you think it's possible someone did something to him?"

"It's plausible," she said, thinking that her own experience of being forced into something had led her to be who she was today.

Chris rolled his eyes, sighing as he let go of her and sank back into the bed. "So I'm fighting something twenty-three years old. Great."

"Don't sound so dismal. You were able to change me."

Lifting his hand, he gently brushed at the strands of long hair that fell about her face and down towards him. "It's not like I can go back and change it."

"You can," Bianca said suddenly, her eyes moving away from his face as she remembered a book she had seen long ago – the history of the Halliwells. It had changed before her eyes and she would have been able to read more of it if Michael hadn't demanded her immediate attention. She looked back to Chris. "It's been done before. I saw the writing change. The Phoenix has a library filled with history books on just about every coven in town. I read about your family. I studied your family. Chris, you can change this if you go back. You can be that protection your family needed."

"I don't know," he said, looking at her uncertainly.

She took his hands into hers; excited to have found a solution and the thought that if they pulled this off then they would have a perfect world. She could be happy. They could be happy.

"Can you imagine it, Chris? If you save your family, if you save Wyatt, there won't be any problems. The world wouldn't be falling apart. We could actually behave like normal people. We wouldn't have to hide. We could walk about freely without feeling threatened. You and me, we could just… be."

"And maybe get married," Chris suggested.

Bianca froze, looking at him with confusion. She wasn't sure if she'd misheard. Chris, himself, had not intended upon it being a proposal, it was just the first thing that came to mind when he tried to imagine what a perfect world would be like – the idea coming up a little more like one of those old shows set in the 1950s where the wife would be home cleaning and cooking while the husband went out to work, two adorable children running around the household, white picket fences and a dog that didn't disobey.

"What?" she asked.

"Um…" Chris stalled, not knowing what to say.

"You want to get married? To me?"

"Well, yeah. Someday," Chris said, nervously running his hand back through his hair. "But if you don't want to, I mean… that's okay."

"No, I just…" Bianca sat back on her heels, looking away as she thought about it. As her gaze drifted back to him she saw he was beginning to worry. Quickly she took his hands again and smiled reassuringly. "I want to… but can we wait til this is over? Will you ask me then?"

"If you help me choose a ring," he said. She nodded quickly, leaning down to kiss him as if sealing the promise.


	29. Chapter 29

**2026 **_cont._

"This is a San Francisco news update, I'm Pam Grimshaw. The crisis within our city is increasing to vindictive standards. Factories have been taken over by Gremlins and there are fears that due to contamination the food supply to our fair city will be restricted to out of state deliveries only. Unfortunately there won't be enough food to supply city residents with adequate nourishment leading to talk of starvation and malnutrition. It is indeed starting to look like a bleak thanksgiving for San Francisco.

"Constructions companies are finding it near impossible to keep to production schedules as buildings continue to be brought down at an alarming rate. Because of both these incidents there have been hefty price rises in the subsequent industries leading to many families struggling to support themselves and their children. Debt it becoming frighteningly high and many people are fleeing the city fearing there is much worse to come. The number of people leaving is so great there are currently traffic jams across all bridge exits which have been hindered further by accidents caused by reckless driving from terrified citizens. We'll update you further on the situation during our news broadcast in an hour."

Chris stared worriedly at the television screen inside the appliance store he and Bianca had wandered into. He gripped Bianca's hand tighter and she looked up at him with the same concern on her face.

"We don't have long, do we?" she questioned.

"No."

"We need the book."

"Should I add breaking and entering to today's agenda?"

"No," Bianca said, smiling. "You know that's impossible. He barred the boundary from magic. Plus with all those probes around…"

"It's too dangerous," Chris finished.

"Exactly."

Bianca moved out of the store, Chris following her through the doorway and down the street. The place was almost empty, the buildings fading into filth and decay as they struggled to stay upright in a period of deprivation.

"It's so quiet now," Bianca observed.

"I'm surprised anything's still open," Chris commented.

"This isn't exactly working towards his plan."

"My brother has a predilection for destruction."

"Your brother has a predilection for corroboration," Bianca said, turning to look at him. "Don't look so innocent, Chris. I know you follow the 'means to an end' rule as well. You follow through on your ideas and beliefs exactly like he does, just not on as grand a scale."

"I…" Chris began. Looking over her shoulder, he smiled. They'd stopped in front of a jewellery store. "Pick something."

Bianca looked uncertainly behind her before returning her gaze to him. "Why?"

"Because I promised you a proposal as soon as this is over. With how severe it's getting, no doubt that's soon. We are going to do something about it, right?"

Bianca backed towards the window, her eyes quickly glancing over the display. Inattentively she waved her hand at something.

"C'mon, you can do better than that," he said, stepping towards her and putting his arms around her waist.

"You can't afford it," she protested, looking up at him.

"I've saved something… a little," he stammered, knowing she could see he was lying. He'd never been able to retain much money. He'd always overspent so much he had to keep crawling to his relatives for loans, but without them around and bills piling up on the table, he was struggling just as much as the rest of San Francisco. "Let's go inside. Surely we can find something special enough for you."

"Welcome," the clerk said, instantly jumping to his feet when he saw them. "You must be brave kids walking through the streets without weapons these days."

Bianca bowed her head quickly trying to hide an amused smile. Chris stepped forward, easily brushing off the comment, his attention solely focused on what he intended to do.

"Yeah, well, I've already seen the worst. It can't scare me anymore. Do you have some rings we could look at?"

"Sure," the clerk said, pulling out a key and opening up a cabinet, moving a display case towards them. "Special occasion?"

"We're getting married," Chris said, pulling Bianca closer to him. Looking down at her, he smirked. "Well… that's if she says yes."

"We've got plenty of beautiful engagement rings here. I'm sure you'll find something to sway her."

"Go on," Chris encouraged, nudging her with his hip.

Pulling away from Chris, Bianca peered down at the display. It seemed like such a huge step to get married. Glancing back at him, she smiled, at least trying to convince him if not herself that this is what she wanted. She did love him, she could admit that, but she was starting to feel like there would never be another day happy and peaceful enough to enjoy such nuptials. Combing her hair behind her ear, she tapped the glass.

"What about that one?" she asked, looking at the simple yet elegant piece.

"I like that one," Chris agreed, lifting himself onto his toes as he looked over her shoulder at it. The clerk pulled out the ring, showing Chris the price tag. Instantly he chuckled. "I _really_ like that one."

Bianca laughed at him. Tenderly his hand brushed her shoulder, moving up her neck until he pulled her head towards him and kissed her joyously.

"Can I try it on?" Bianca asked, looking back to the clerk. Taking it from his hands as he nodded, she slipped it over the knuckle of her ring finger. It was a perfect fit.

"See, it's meant for you," the clerk said encouragingly.

"We'll take it," Chris said, fumbling in his back pocket for his wallet, his fingers fastening around the leather casing as he slid it out. Opening it up, he looked grimly at the contents inside before pulling out every note he had, laying them meticulously on the counter.

"Thank you very much, sir," the clerk said, pleased.

Bianca pulled the ring from her finger. It slipped from her grasp as she felt the floor tremor, clattering to the ground and rolling under the ridge of the counter's base.

"Did you feel that?" she asked.

"What?" Chris queried, flipping closed his wallet and pushing it back into his pocket.

"The floor moved."

"I didn't feel anything," Chris said.

Bianca's eyes skimmed the ground as she felt it vibrate once more. Chris looked from her to the ground, spotting the fallen ring.

"There it is again," she said.

There was so much concentration on her face. Chris couldn't understand what she was picking up that he wasn't. Surprisingly unfazed, he found himself more worried about losing the ring that he'd just paid a fortune for. He crouched down, a smile crossing his face as he did so, looking up at her with mild amusement.

"What are you trying to say? Someone's going to burrow in here and attack us from below?" he jested.

"That's not funny."

Reaching for the ring, he scooped it into his hand, watching as she drifted away towards the window. Outside a fire hydrant burst, water spurting up and falling around it like an umbrella shaped fountain as Bianca jumped back in surprise. Although she was in no danger from the volatile hydrant, a few steps closer to the glass showed her more than just that was happening outside. Sewerage gurgled and spilled up over the gutters from the drains in murky, watery masses. Similar liquid material began to rush down front stoops of nearby apartments, cascading down the stairs like white water rapids. Cracks like those appearing on an aged and weary face began to form in the pavement, widening and splitting into disjointed forms. Cars shook on the street, setting off a chorus of shrieking alarms across the neighbourhood.

"What's going on?" Bianca asked uncertainly.

"It's an earthquake!" the clerk shrieked, dashing for the back room.

"It's Wyatt," Chris corrected, standing. He felt a sprinkle of dust fall over his shoulders. Glancing up he saw the roof was starting to fall in. "Ceiling!"

With a wave of his hand, he sent the loose fragment of plaster behind the counter, away from the path it had taken towards the clerk's head. The clerk disappeared into the back room, slamming the door, Chris' magical rescue going unnoticed.

He looked over at Bianca. She stood, terrified, watching through the window as the world fell in on itself outside. Chris noticed minor cracks developing in the glass, spreading slowly upwards. It was beginning to fragment, Bianca directly in its path.

"Bianca!" Chris shouted.

He rushed forward, grabbing hold of her and moving her into the doorway. The building shook and lurched, Chris trying desperately to hold onto the doorframe and keep Bianca pinned between his arms. Jolting forward, Bianca knocked Chris away from his hold. Quickly trying to rectify the situation she grabbed the doorframe with one hand and Chris' shirt with the other, pulling him back towards her. She looked worriedly up towards him, hoping he was okay. Resuming the position of his hands, she became assured that he was. The idle thought struck her that this was not what they should be doing in such close proximity.

From the corner of her eye she saw something flying towards them. She curled herself into Chris' chest, hearing but not seeing his valiant efforts to keep them unharmed as he telekinetically batted things away. It probably wasn't as effective as Wyatt's shield, but it was the best protection she had on offer at the moment. Neither she nor Chris could transport themselves out of harm's way when the entire city was being affected – they had nowhere they could go.

"Rafter!" Chris shouted, seeing the large piece of wood swing down towards them. Redirecting its path, Chris covered Bianca as much as he could while she cringed at the sound of shattering glass. "Shit."

"What?" Bianca asked quickly, looking up.

"We're gonna be stuck in the middle of a series of dilapidated buildings pretty soon."

"Chris, what the hell's going on?" she questioned anxiously. Chris batted away more debris as it floated towards them, this strike more furious than the others.

"He's fucking insane, that's what's going on."

"No."

"Yes! Bianca…"

"San Francisco gets hit by earthquakes all the time… but never this bad."

"No doubt he's magnified it."

"How?" Bianca asked.

Chris stared at her before finally looking away. He had no answer. Again he was thrown off balance, the volume of noise above him signifying everything was about to cave as he'd predicted. Grabbing Bianca, he pulled her down with him, holding onto her tightly as everything came down around them in a great crescendo. The shaking stopped; silence and dust beginning to settle around them. Bianca coughed, Chris pulling back and rubbing his hand across his head.

"You okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah. You've got…" Bianca started, smiling as she saw the dirt he'd smudged onto his forehead. Licking her thumb, she lifted it to the mark and tried to rub it away. "Better."

"Thanks."

"I have to go back, Chris."

"Why? Because he went destructo-crazy?"

Shaking her head, she stood, looking at the mess around them. Wires swung idly from the rooves of what remained standing.

"Take me home," she said.

Standing, Chris looked at her, pondering which exact home she meant. Opting for her latest residence, he orbed them both down to the Underworld.

"Dammit!" Chris cried.

Bianca looked at the rubble that sealed off their little cavern. As she'd suspected, the place was in ruins, no longer inhabitable. Chris brushed his fingers along the fault lines in the wall.

"Looks like it started here," he observed.

"I can't help but think if I'd never left, if we'd never come here, this might not have happened. That quake was so high it would have killed people, and it'd all be our fault."

"It's Wyatt's fault. He did this, not us."

"And if we changed him? Before all this… none of it would happen."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Go back. I'll go to Wyatt, get back his trust. We can get the book and go from there," Bianca said. Chris lifted his hand, rubbing his forehead as if he were getting a headache from it all. "Can we go to your place to sleep?"

"Sure," Chris said, peeking out from behind his hand. "If it's still standing."

"I won't go til tomorrow. It's Thanksgiving. He might give the security some down-time."

Chris dropped his hand, reaching out towards her. She took hold of his hand, letting him orb them out. His apartment, thankfully, still remained standing, although the rest of the city faired poorly. She spent the rest of the night curled up against him, listening to sirens echo outside as various emergency crews tried to do what they could to help in the aftermath.

* * *

"It looks so bleak," Bianca observed.

Standing in the memorial garden in Golden Gate Park they had a good view of half the city. She thought the destruction she and Wyatt had caused was bad, this was much worse. Despite the crumbled mass of buildings, commercials still flashed onto the large outside screen promoting a more cheerful life than San Francisco had been given. Planes flew overhead, looking for survivors underneath the rubble. To the left stood the Golden Gate Bridge – or what remained of it. Vacated of traffic, some of which were probably plunged into the ocean, it hardly looked like a stand out feature at all. The suspension cables had snapped, hanging from the holdings like dead strings of seaweed. The road itself was fractured and falling away.

"Welcome to the new world," Chris said sarcastically.

"Look at the bridge," Bianca said morosely. "I've never even crossed it. Now I won't be able to."

Walking up behind her, Chris gently rubbed her shoulders. "You will. When I fix this, I promise you that you will."

Bianca turned to look at him. "So you're going to do it?"

"Yes. Only because it's the last resort."

Reaching up to his head, she pulled him down towards her and kissed him. So long as she could do her part, then he would be able to finish this for good.

"I won't let you down," she said.

"No, don't promise that." Chris shook his head. "Just don't let yourself down."

She gave him a satisfied smile before shimmering out. Reappearing in Wyatt's apartment, she found the place empty. Thinking this task was going to be much easier than she thought, she headed straight for the bedroom. Looking quickly through the cabinet she found the book was not there. Turning towards his bed, she lifted the sheets and peered under. All she found were stray pairs of shoes and a pile of old books, none of which were large enough to be the Book of Shadows. With careful precision, she turned her search towards the drawers replacing everything exactly as it had been. Still no result. She had no choice but to find him. Despondent, she glanced up to the sword that lay at the head of his bed. She remembered that day, the day he'd reclaimed it, remembered him talking about his mother. With that piece of information in mind, she noted that there was no weaponry missing. Presuming he was not out fighting, she concluded that he must be at the manor.

She shimmered to the front door knowing she couldn't go directly inside the two story house because of the magical block. As expected, the door was firmly closed and locked. Removing the bobby pin from her hair, she leant down and began to pick the lock, grateful to have acquired the skill across the years. With a satisfactory click the door unlocked, Bianca pushing it inwards and gently closing it behind her. Walking forward she glanced around but could see no sign of him. Looking up to the roof, she heard a noise above. It wasn't a friendly one. She shimmered up to the attic, cautiously directing her reappearance to be close to the walls.

Wyatt sat cross-legged in the centre of five white candles, the book perched on his knees. A mixture of smells floated through the air, the most prominent being sage.

"Hear these words, hear my cry, spirit from the other side. Come to me, I summon thee. Cross now the Great Divide." Wyatt looked up and around, grimacing when he saw the desired result was not produced. Looking back down at the book he continued with the extended part of the spell used directly for séances. "Beloved spirit, Piper Halliwell. We seek your guidance. We ask that you commune with us and move among us."

Lifting his eyes hesitantly from the page, he closed them tightly to shut away the tears that threatened to come when he saw the spell had not worked. One simple spell and he couldn't even do it. He was falling apart. All he wanted was to see his mother again, to go back to where this all started, to hear her tell him everything was alright, that she forgave him for his part in her death.

He looked back down at the spell in the book before him. Again he repeated it, and still it did not work. He knew sitting here all night saying it over and over was not going to make his mother appear. Reviewing the last part of the spell, he noted that the secondary section was pluralised.

"Great, not only do I need my damn brother to cast a spell, the one I want done is a fucking group effort," he complained.

Slamming the book closed in his hands, he cast it across the room in frustration. Lifting his hand, he flicked his fingers at the candle before him, sending it exploding in large white chunks across the floor. Clenching his fists, he looked up as he heard someone shimmer in.

Bianca surveyed the scene before her. Turning to the bookshelf behind her, she picked up one of the candles and walked towards him, lowering it to the fifth point on the pentagram and glancing up at him with a warm smile.

"I think you're missing one," she said kindly. Wyatt's gaze directionally shifted from her to the mess he'd made on the floor. Following it and surmising what had happened, she straightened. "Oh."

Nervously she combed her hair behind her ear, looking towards him, wondering exactly what kind of reaction he was going to give her after what had happened. She expected him to attack but he didn't, just remained seated before her, watching her studiously. The silence made her feel uncomfortable and awkwardly she folded her arms until he looked away, turning his attention to the candles which he proceeded to blow out.

"What are you doing here, Bianca?" he questioned. "It's thanksgiving. We're closed."

"I didn't come to see the manor. I came to see you."

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with me anymore."

"I was wrong. I realise that now."

Wyatt looked up to her, shaking his head and laughing bitterly. "You're just afraid of me like the rest of them."

"No," Bianca insisted. Stepping into the circle, she crouched down before him. "I believe in you. I've always believed in you."

"What about your little dalliance with Chris?"

Wetting her lips, Bianca looked away, her gaze slowly returning to him. "Well, you wanted him on your side. I had to seduce him to do so. He was never going to trust you otherwise."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Wyatt asked. "Why did you run away with him?"

"I needed him to trust me. That wasn't going to happen if he was suspicious of you. And you surely weren't going to act like yourself if I did tell you the plan."

"I don't like being double-crossed. You should have kept me informed," he said angrily.

Bianca diverted her eyes from his. She didn't want him to see that she knew what he had been secretly planning, that she was hurt and angry that he would even attempt such a thing. She couldn't let this venture into a fight. She needed this to go as peacefully as possible.

"In future I will," she promised. It was a bitter lie, but right now she would say anything to win back his favour.

Wyatt watched her carefully, his annoyance giving way to mild sympathy. He knew the torment of living without forgiveness. He couldn't make her endure the same. Yet he still wasn't clear as to why she'd come back.

"What do you want Bianca?" he asked.

"I want my old life back," Bianca said, the words grating on her soul as she said them. She hated herself for giving him permission to hand her away to the Phoenix, even if he only suspected she had meant working for him.

"I can't give you that," Wyatt said. She looked at him quizzically. "Unless… you promise to do a few things for me, and keep your word."

"What things?" she asked uneasily.

"You do what I tell you. And no more running away."

"Okay," she agreed hesitantly.

"You keep me informed of everything that's going on. Don't think I won't have you watched."

"That's a little invasive," she pointed out.

"That's being cautious. You don't expect me to welcome you back with open arms, do you?"

"I guess not," she admitted.

"No more fighting me. I don't want to see you picking apart my cronies either."

She lifted her gaze to his, wondering where this demand had come from. It was a sizeable part of their history, a part that had also inevitably led her to Chris. She wondered exactly what his expectations of her were if he was going to restrict everything she did. Most of it she could work out to be an easy excuse for her not to argue when he handed her over to the Phoenix, but it didn't all add up.

"I'll try," she said.

"You'll do better than 'try'. You will comply whether you like it or not. This is a necessity, unless of course you'd prefer to have your own blood stain your skin from the slit across your throat."

Bianca stood quickly. "I didn't come here to be threatened."

"There is so much you don't understand," Wyatt said, rising himself. "But there is one thing you do know about – survival. It's the reason you've come back here."

Bianca stared at him, contemplating how much he really knew about her. He'd known her for so many years, and although she felt she knew him inside out she never realised that perhaps it was the same with him as well in relation to her. But he couldn't possibly know the true reason she was here, he'd never been around when she'd discussed it with Chris. Glancing at the book she saw it still lay on the floor. She could shimmer there and leave with it without having to consent to anything. As she looked back to him she noticed he was now aware of what her intentions were – he couldn't read her mind but he was paying attention to every little thing she did. Perhaps she had given herself away.

Stepping out of the ring of candles, Wyatt walked over to the Book of Shadows and lifted it from the floor, holding it in his arms. He noted her gaze drop from his to the book.

"They're my terms," he continued. "You can either abide by them or not. This is your current reality. I know you're smart enough to choose the right option. You know I can make life very hard for you otherwise."

"Alright," she agreed. "Are you going to keep up this maximum security thing?"

"As long as I need to," Wyatt said. "But I'm feeling generous. Call it the festive spirit. I'll give you three days to sort yourself out. After that you'll be entirely in my care."

Her eyes fell again to the book in his hands as she tried to turn the conversation away from herself. "What spell were you trying to cast?"

"That's not really your concern," he answered. Holding the book out in front of him, he looked down at the cover and orbed it away.

"You don't have to keep hiding that from me," Bianca said. Wyatt lifted his eyes, looking at her distrustfully. "Why here? Why not cast it from your apartment?"

"Because this place is at the centre of a vast spiritual nexus. The greatest of all powers can be produced here, whether for good or evil. It cannot differentiate, only radiate. If something is to work effectively or at all, the best result will come from casting it here. Unfortunately it didn't give me the desired outcome. Apparently not everything can be done alone."

Bianca was thrilled to realise what she and Chris had been discussing could actually happen. All they needed to do was get the book. If they cast the spell here he would be able to go back, protect his family and save Wyatt. Despite not asking for their assistance, Wyatt had in fact given them all the answers they needed to help him. But she'd have to be cautious or their plan would fall apart. They had three days to get organised, to figure out what they were going to do. After that she'd be treading on thin ice.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?" Wyatt asked.

"For letting me help you."


	30. Chapter 30

**2026 **_cont._

Chris paced fretfully in the garden, glancing at his watch every now and then wondering what was taking Bianca so long. He was starting to worry that something had happened to her, and if that was the case he was certainly going to kill Wyatt for it. They both knew what they were doing was dangerous – Wyatt was not one to be trifled with – but it had to be done. Chris stopped as she shimmered in before him.

"So?" he asked expectantly.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" she returned, smiling broadly and opening her arms wide.

"I take it it went well then."

"Yes," she said, moving quickly towards him and pulling him down to kiss her. "Exceptionally well."

"Did he grant you amnesty or something?"

"No, better. He told me how we could help him."

"What?" Chris asked disbelievingly.

"What you were telling me and what he was telling me doesn't add up. But it won't matter. All we have to do is go back to the house with the book, cast the spell and voila."

"We don't have the book."

"It's okay. He gave me three days reprieve so we can work something out."

"How can you be so sure this is going to work?"

"I have faith in you," Bianca said, brushing her fingers through his hair.

"Can we think about this logically for a second? If we do this, if I go back, how am I going to get close enough to help them? And am I even going to have my powers? I mean, I wasn't born yet. I could lose them just by going back. How am I meant to protect them then?"

"Of course you'll have your powers. You'd only lose them if you were changing identities. What are you afraid of, Chris? Are you scared of your little big brother?" Bianca questioned half-jokingly.

"No. I'm scared about making things worse. What am I meant to tell them? I'm the kid you haven't had yet, and the one you have is going to destroy the world? Who'd believe that? They'd slam the door in my face!"

"Then you need a cover story," Bianca said. Chris looked at her doubtfully. "Do you know anything about that time? Is there anything that happened you can change to win their trust?"

Chris shook his head. "Apart from every demon and friend attacking them, I don't know. I couldn't even say who turned Wyatt, there's so many of them."

"Well who's the closest to the Charmed Ones without being them?"

"Dad," Chris said bitterly.

"Can you go through him?"

Chris looked at her angrily. "I'm not crawling to him for help. He never cared about me in the first place. He wouldn't try."

Sympathetically Bianca raised her hand to his cheek. She realised it was the wrong thing to ask him to do. She had the same opinion about seeing her own mother again. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

"That's when they first took him anyway."

"Who?" Bianca inquired.

"The Elders. They were nearly wiped out by the Titans and needed replacements. Dad always cared more about his job than us."

Bianca looked at Chris thoughtfully. "Who replaced him?"

Chris shrugged. "I don't know. Would they need someone else?"

"From what you and Wyatt tell me, the Elders call the shots don't they? Wouldn't he be too busy for them… if he was for you?" she asked tentatively.

"What are you suggesting? You want me to be their whitelighter?" He laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "What kind of whitelighter could I make? I can't even heal! And they're all so stubborn – none of them are going to listen to someone younger than them telling them what to do. I can't even imagine teaching my mom to fight."

"You don't need to fight. Just protect and defend them. Keep them out of harms way."

"What if I can't?" Chris asked. She looked at him gravely. "I'm going to have to kill every witch, demon and warlock that was ever a problem, aren't I?"

"No, you can't change the past too much. You don't know what consequences there will be."

"I won't interfere; just do what I need to to help. At least I'll be able to get my hands on the book to track them down. Wyatt can't keep it away from me there."

"Do you want me to try for the book again?" Bianca asked. "He's already suspicious of me. It won't be easy."

"Where's he keeping it?"

"I don't know. It used to be in a cupboard in his room but he keeps orbing it away from me. There is a holographic replica in the museum, but that's useless. It only shows the page on the Warren line, no spells," Bianca explained. A teasing smile appeared on Chris' face and his bright green eyes lit up as if he knew a secret she didn't. "What?"

"We could use that book."

"No, I told you—"

"To get the other one," Chris finished. Bianca looked at him with confusion. "My power's in spell casting, right? Well why not cast a spell to replace that holographic copy with the real one?"

Bianca smiled. "You're a genius."

"I try," he said bashfully. "The only problem is having to write that spell so it'll work. I wouldn't want to summon the wrong thing."

"And?" Bianca pressed, seeing there was something more.

"The other problem is trying to get to the attic to cast it – Wyatt won't let me step foot in that house."

"He will if he trusts you."

"Wyatt doesn't trust me," Chris said, half-laughing.

"He's going to. I told him you were on our side. You just need to prove it."

"Bianca!" Chris exclaimed. "How am I meant to do that? Why did you tell him that?"

"Because it was the only way."

"So when am I going to have to endure this 'test'?"

* * *

"Christopher Halliwell, you've finally succumbed to 'the dark side'," Wyatt mocked, seeing his brother shimmer in with Bianca. "Temptation too strong, was it?"

Chris glanced at Bianca, seeing the knowing glint in his brother's eye as he looked back to him. It was more than obvious he was referring to Bianca being the largest influence to change his mind.

"I'm broadening my horizons," Chris answered.

"More like catering to every whimsy," Wyatt stated, his eyes flashing discouragingly. Turning away, he walked to the side table, picking up a large round paperweight and turning it thoughtfully in his hand. "I realise Bianca can be highly persuasive. I'd like to know how committed you are to this."

Bianca nudged Chris forward, encouraging him to say or do something to convince Wyatt of his loyalty. Chris had no idea how he could win Wyatt over in a short enough period of time. He feared that maybe he'd have to kill someone, as Bianca had, to create false hope in a lie.

Before he could finish his train of thought, Wyatt turned and threw the paperweight at him. Chris immediately ducked, his eyes quick to follow the flight path as he swivelled on the balls of his feet.

"Paperweight!" Chris called, holding out his hand. The solid object dissipated into orbs, streaming in reverse back to his palm where it reformed. Bianca stared with fright at what was happening before her as Chris stood again and headed towards his brother. This was never meant to be dangerous. "You shouldn't throw things around the room. You might break something."

"Yes, dad," Wyatt sneered as Chris handed back the heavy stone.

Looking at him loathingly for even mentioning his father with such a purposeful attack, Chris turned and headed back towards Bianca. Stopping by her side, he lowered his head towards her.

"I can't do this," he said in a low voice.

"He's just trying to rile you up, Chris. He wants to see if you'll snap. Don't give up."

Chris looked over his shoulder at Wyatt, finally turning to face him. Folding her arms, Bianca watched on.

"So what is it exactly you want me for, Wyatt?" Chris inquired. "Why so insistent I come over to your side?"

"Another ally is always handy," Wyatt said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Especially one that's family. I don't want to keep having to fight you, Chris. It's a pointless ideal."

Chris thought it over in his mind, his expression showing he was not at all convinced. Remembering this was only a ploy to something larger, Chris gave in and moved back towards Wyatt.

"So what is it you're working on?" he asked, feigning interest.

"I have several tasks in production, but my key interest lies with finding the last ingredient for this one. It appears certain demon species have decided looting is a good idea in light of recent events, and I've had to create a warding off spell to discourage that. Unfortunately the Jackarta flower I need to complete this is a rare species. I'm not sure where to get one."

"I might know," Chris said.

Wyatt looked at him uncertainly. "If you do know, take me to it. Bianca can stay here."

Chris glanced back to Bianca. Reluctantly she nodded in agreement, watching them orb out together. She was not entirely happy to be left on her own, much preferring to go where the action was, but she had to trust Chris and to keep on Wyatt's good side she needed to do as he suggested.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said to the disappearing orbs.

* * *

"I have to see a friend of mine first," Chris said, moments after they reappeared in the Underworld.

"I'm not letting you go alone," Wyatt insisted. "I don't want any secret planning going on behind my back."

"He's not very friendly," Chris said as they walked into the cavern.

"You think I'm afraid of that?" Wyatt laughed. "I'll have you know—"

Chris saw his brother drop from sight as the ground opened up beneath him. His figure disappeared into the dark abyss, a smatter of orbs all that remained. Seeing them rise towards the ceiling, Chris turned his gaze ahead to see Gith pointing a crossbow at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with his broad English accent.

"Looking for information," Chris replied. Wyatt reformed next to him, dusting his jacket off. "You should be more welcoming to your guests."

"Not when they plan on stealing all and Sunday from me. Everybody's turned into corruptive animals. Pardon me if it's a little hard to trust these days."

"You're lucky you haven't already been slaughtered," Wyatt sneered.

"Yes, well, there's a good chance of that," Gith commented, turning the arrow head towards Wyatt. "But I prefer to let strangers drop down the rabbit hole before I get to ask any questions. It's safer that way."

"Lucky I have my own escape route then," Wyatt stated smartly.

Gith lifted the crossbow higher, his finger poised on the trigger as he aimed towards Wyatt's head. Wyatt, of course, held no fear towards the threat when he had several ways of stopping it.

"Wait!" Chris shouted. "We're not here to steal anything. We're just looking for a rare flower. I was hoping you could help us."

"Am I your walking Underworld directory now?" Gith asked. "I'm not inclined to keep handing out free directions. You'll have to give me something for it."

Chris felt around in his pockets, but they were empty. He knew his wallet was empty too, having spent all his cash on Bianca's ring. What little was left in the bank he couldn't access until they opened again. And even if could get to it, there was no point in leaving, Gith wanted something right now before he felt compelled to shoot someone. Helplessly Chris looked at Wyatt. His older brother was obviously accustomed to these kinds of dealings, choosing dominance over submission, taking control of the situation with attacks and threats. Powering up an energy ball he looked heatedly at the demon.

"How about this?" he asked. "It could make you feel all warm and toasty."

Gith fired the arrow, Wyatt instantaneously throwing the energy ball astray as he turned to the side and grabbed the offending arrow from the air. Pulling it down in one swift motion, he turned back towards Gith and opened his palm, sending the arrow back in his direction via a stream of orbs. The demon cried out as it ripped through tendon in his leg, falling to one knee as Wyatt approached him, his hand closing surreptitiously.

"You don't _make_ demands from us. We want that flower to stop the looting. We have similar interests. You either tell us where to go, in effect helping yourself, or quod fiet, fiet – I make you an easy target for those demons and send them all here. You don't have enough rabbit holes for an entire warren."

Gagging, his hand alternating between the floor to keep him sturdy and his throat to vainly attempt to pull away Wyatt's invisible stranglehold, Gith nodded eagerly. Wyatt released his grip, his hand dropping back to his side as he stared down at the hopeless demon.

"Look in the well," Gith rasped, absently waving his hand towards the stone well that stood amid the skulls, rocks and dust.

Chris hesitated. He looked at the opening wondering what exactly it would reveal. Specialising in wants and fantasies, Gith could very easily expose his and Bianca's plan to Wyatt, and then this little trickery would all be over and Wyatt would kill them both.

"Chris?" Wyatt asked expectantly, glancing over his shoulder as he tried to discern his little brother's reluctance.

Chris glanced from the well to Wyatt. He couldn't not do this – Wyatt would get suspicious. His only chance, at best, was to distract his brother.

"I wouldn't take my eyes off him. He's cunning," Chris stated.

Compliantly Wyatt looked back to the demon. Chris moved towards the well, cringing when he saw the image of the book appear. Closing his eyes, he concentrated harder on the flower. As he opened them again he saw a white petalled image floating on the water's surface. The image broadening, he recognised the location – exactly where he'd found Gazu. He smirked, not able to believe his luck or how easy this would be.

"Do you always come up with the same locations?" he asked.

"Maybe you just have little imagination," Gith remarked. Wyatt instantly closed his hand, causing the demon to choke again.

"Let him go, Wyatt. I know where this place is."

Unclasping his hand, Wyatt leant down to the demon's eye level, giving a fake smile and lightly tapping him on the cheek.

"I'll be seeing you again, my friend. Thank you kindly for the service."

Growling in response, Gith watched the two men orb out in pursuit of a flower that could help them both. As they reappeared in their new location, Chris looked around thoughtfully. The surrounds were not exactly as he remembered.

"Can I help you?" a young voice asked, a large cardboard box in his hands.

"Where's Gazu?" Chris inquired.

"Oh, you haven't heard?" the young man responded glumly. "He perished during the earthquake – crushed by those rocks."

Chris looked to the side in the direction the young man nodded his head. Now Chris noticed why the room looked different – part of it had completely fallen in and restructured its appearance.

"We need a rare flower – a Jackarta. Do you have it?" Wyatt asked, determinedly walking forward.

The young boy shrugged as he continued to pack the box. "Maybe. Check over there. I haven't got that far yet."

Quickly Wyatt raced to the shelves, rummaging through the contents until he discovered what he was looking for, holding it up in the air and admiring its structure. A small smile played on his lips.

"Exactly what I needed. You don't mind if we take this?" he asked. The young man shook his head. Turning to Chris, Wyatt walked back towards him. "C'mon, Chris, we have work to do." Taking his brother's arm, he added softly: "Thank you for keeping your word."

* * *

_**Side note:** For those that are curious as to what Wyatt said to Gith in Latin – "Quod fiet, fiet" translates as "What's to be, will be"_


	31. Chapter 31

**2026 **_cont._

"I can't believe it's come to this," Bianca said.

"I know," Chris agreed.

Bianca looked around the memorial garden anxiously. Her reprieve had ended. She knew Wyatt would be watching her, but she didn't know how or when. All she knew was that they were quickly running out of time.

"I feel like we're missing something," she said.

"I have the spell," Chris announced, holding up the folded paper to show her. "I don't know how effective it'll be, but we'll have to try. Today."

"Today?" she queried disappointedly. Chris nodded, pocketing the paper again.

"If it doesn't work, we're going to have to come up with something else."

"It has to work. Wyatt's already dubious of the reasons behind my enquiries about the museum. I'm sure he trusts us, but he doesn't entirely believe us."

Chris looked up into the sky as another floating vehicle buzzed overhead on its way into the city. It was still bleak and grey, the smoke-infested pale interpretation of the destruction that had happened across the city. The place was quiet, except for the occasional sound of sirens, and despite the fact that the city had become fairly lifeless, the sounds of seagulls squawking from the bay denied such a theory as their cries could be heard in the far distance.

"I can't even start to think what the change will be like," he mused.

"It'll be happy, for us," Bianca said, smiling up at him as she took his hands and gripped them in hers.

Chris looked down to her thoughtfully. "I need to ask you something."

"What?" she inquired.

"I think you should sit down," he advised.

"Chris!" she shouted, laughing as he pulled her towards the stone seat and pushed her down onto it. Lifting his leg, he straddled the seat and shifted closer to her.

"Are you serious about me? About us?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, confused. "Why… why are you asking?"

"Because I need to know," he answered, smiling reassuringly. "So you're not going to go running off with the next guy that comes along after I'm gone?"

"No!" she cried, offended he'd even suggest such a thing.

"Even if I don't come back? Say if something was to go wrong…"

"Nothing is going to go wrong," she said determinedly. "Don't talk like that."

"So you'll wait for me?" he asked. Smiling, she nodded. "Good."

Combing his hair behind his ear, he reached down to his pocket and lifted up the flap, thrusting his hand inside as he felt around for the small object he'd been carrying since the moment he'd picked it up from the floor.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking curiously at his hand as he fumbled and then withdrew the closed fist from his pocket.

"Give me your hand," he instructed.

She lifted both hands, about to hand him the right when he threaded his through her left, between her ring and pinkie fingers, lifting her hand by pressing his index finger into her palm. Pushing the ring up to rest between his thumb and forefinger, her eye caught the glint of the band and she suddenly knew what he held. Slipping the ring over the edge of her ring finger, she felt her fingers tremble – whether from nerves, fear, excitement or a mixture of all three she could not determine. All she knew was this was real, this was happening right now - against their plan, completely unexpected, and she was happy for it. He steadied her hand with his own, pushing the ring up over the knuckle until it came to rest in the crevice. Her eyes sparkling as they glazed over with jubilant tears she met his gaze, her mouth moving but no words coming out. She didn't know what to say. She was speechless. Chris leaned towards her. She couldn't help but note the serious expression on his face.

"Will you marry me?" he asked. This was no joke; he obviously couldn't wait as long as they had planned to. He was obviously worried something was going to happen in his absence.

"You're asking me now?" she questioned, in light of this theory.

"Mm-hmm," Chris replied, nodding his head. Her smile widened at the resolution on his face.

Glancing quickly at the garden, she looked at him with amusement. "Here?"

"This is still our spot, Bianca. No matter what he's done to it. Marry me."

"On one condition," Bianca said, leaning towards him as she covered his hands with her own. Chris straightened, the unexpected answer catching him off-guard. "You come back to me," she requested, reinforcing the grip on his hand. Chris relaxed, giving a relieved laugh. "Safely."

"Have I ever let you down before?" he asked.

She stared into his eyes. She knew he hadn't – he'd always been there, even when she didn't want him to be. He'd even saved her life which was a lot more than most people could claim. Body and soul, she was his. Her eyes relaying the answer, she reached around to the back of his neck and pulled him towards her, Chris' hand finding her side as their lips met. Lifting her left hand to move it away, she found as she touched it that she didn't want to quell this, she wanted to keep going, and so she continued rising it until it rested on his other shoulder. Threading his hair through her fingers, she tightened her grip, pressing herself ever more towards him. Deepening the kiss, Chris pushed back and instantly she pulled away. Not for fear of him, but for the whirring noise that sounded nearby. The fluttering of birds quickly departing confirmed her suspicions it was not a good thing. Relaxing her hold, Chris looked aside as he heard it too.

"What's that?" Bianca asked.

Sliding her hands down his shoulders, she looked up, Chris turning fully now to see what was approaching them. Over the wall flew a disc-like object – Bianca instantly recognised it as a probe. There it was - that was the way Wyatt was going to keep watch over her. She knew he'd altered them, he'd done that some time ago, but she had no idea if this probe came armed or not. Pausing in front of them, the light shone bright as it switched on, scanning over Bianca with a blinding yellowish hue.

"Chris!" she shouted.

Already on the case, Chris pulled his hands away from her and straightened, reaching across his body with his right hand and telekinetically flinging the probe back to the other side of them. Bianca turned to look behind her, watching it crash into the decaying remains of the stone angel, exploding in a shower of sparks upon impact. Her heart beating furiously, she turned her head down, her hands splayed across the cold stone seat as she took a few ragged breaths to calm herself down. Leaning forward, Chris put his hand back on her leg, struggling to see her face, his right hand brushing reassuringly down her arm.

"Are you okay?" he asked with concern.

She nodded, thinking, worrying, her mind running into assassin overdrive as she tried to work out how long it had been there, what she'd heard, how much she had let Chris distract her and whether it had gathered any information that could incriminate them. But it was destroyed now; Chris had gotten rid of the probe. Chris had fixed the problem like he always did. She had nothing to be anxious over.

"Yeah. Yeah I…" She looked up to him, watching him brush away the hair from his face. "I don't think it had time to transmit."

She couldn't believe how confidant she sounded at that assumption, and she could see on Chris' face that he believed her. She knew she had to be right. She'd thought of every analytical possibility in those few seconds. Easing her mind also was the supportive touch Chris afforded as he replaced his hand on her leg, the other encompassing her wrist. Gently he squeezed her leg, propelling himself upwards as he voiced his anger. She looked up to him with annoyance, wondering why he was now abandoning her, why he was the one who was acting furious at the whole situation when she was the one who was being attacked.

"I cannot believe he's sending probes after us now," Chris seethed. Bianca dropped her gaze. He meant Wyatt, she knew it, but wasn't it just as much her fault? After all, it was because she had betrayed Wyatt in the first place that she was now under constant watch, that she was putting their lives in jeopardy. "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

"No!" Bianca insisted, quickly rising to her feet and grabbing Chris' arm, her other hand resting on his chest to facilitate in stopping him from running off to do so. She knew the kind of fallouts the two brothers had. She knew Chris would ruin their plan if he let his anger get the better of him now. "No, you're not. You're going to stick to the plan."

"But he knows."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "If he knew, he wouldn't have sent the probe."

Chris looked off in the distance, his expression dejected and beaten as he gave in to her reasoning. He lowered his head in defeat. A long silence stretched between them as he tried to calm himself down, Bianca not allowing him any room to move until he did so.

"You have to go back, Chris," she said desolately. "It's the only way to stop him. It's the only way to change all this."

Chris nodded, knowing she was right. On the verge of tears, she lifted his hand and pressed it to her lips, adding reassurance and hope to what they strived for. Lowering it, Chris moved towards her, resting his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. She wasn't about to lose him forever. He'd promised he would come back, that things would be better. Wrapping his arms around her, Chris pulled her in closer, Bianca taking comfort in the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

* * *

The house rose before them like some great figure of impending doom. With the level of expectation they had placed on themselves, its massive appearance felt twice as large. Bianca nervously toyed with her ring as she took a few steps closer, Chris following awkwardly in his reluctance.

"What if we can't get in? What if they recognise you?" Chris asked.

Amused at his panicky questioning, she smiled and looked over her shoulder at him. "It's a public place. We'll have no problem getting in; the problems will start once we're inside. I doubt they're going to recognise me. It's been a long time and Wyatt's surely replaced the staff since then."

"Wouldn't surprise me if there's a high turnover. I wonder if 'termination by death' is in the contract?"

"I'm still breathing, aren't I?" Bianca pointed out. Chris quickly looked away. "I think he's upped the security, though. He's become more than a little paranoid with this looting problem. He thinks someone might take something from inside, and after all the difficulties we had collecting it…"

Chris looked overhead as that same annoying whirring sound began again. Another probe floated towards them. Chris lifted his arm, batting the air with the back of his hand. The probe skidded sideways, smashing into the trunk of a tree by the roadside.

"This is getting ridiculous," he complained.

"It'll be worse inside," Bianca said. She glanced over to the remains by the trunk. "You can't keep breaking them. Especially not inside, there'll be too many other people around."

"Not to mention the fact I won't be able to use my powers in there."

"Not publicly, but you can still use your powers inside. Only the boundary is barred."

"How do we get the book in then?"

"I saw him orb it out, which must mean it can come back in too," she explained. Wetting her lips, she continued: "We'll have to find somewhere to hide out until dark. That way there won't be anyone to stop us."

"Except maybe a few guards," Chris said.

"I don't know if he has anyone on night patrol," she admitted.

Chris looked at the door. He heard another couple behind them of Asian decent, the young woman with long plaits reaching all the way down to her waist babbling excitedly about what was inside. Chris understood very little of the conversation, catching only the odd name he recognised. He watched them go in, quickly following, Bianca striding behind him. Stopping by his side at the counter, she glanced up to him and smiled surreptitiously.

"Two please," she requested from the cashier.

The cashier placed two tickets on the counter, Chris realising at the sight that he'd have to pay for them. Digging in his pocket, he found some stray notes and coins to cover the cost, thankful he was still able to hold down a paid job around Wyatt's unpaid labours.

"So, discreet is the key word?" Chris asked in a low voice as they headed towards the rest of the group. Bianca nodded quickly. Chris looked down at the short skirt she was wearing, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "You don't look so discreet in that. You must be freezing."

"I didn't see you complaining before. Besides," she said, taking his arm, "I have you to keep me warm."

"Don't give me ideas," he said, smirking.

Stopping at the back of the group, Chris looked around quickly. "Those floorboards aren't going to help. It doesn't look like he's changed the place at all… except for the few thematic additions. Do you know where to go? Bianca. Bianca."

"Shh," she hissed at him. "We'll just follow the tour. We'll find our opportunity. Just keep your guard up."

The group moved forward as the tour guide joined them, heading further up the hallway. Chris and Bianca followed at a slow pace, purposefully hanging back at the rear to remain out of sight and aware of problematic encounters. Raising his hand to his mouth, Chris nervously chewed on his thumb, old memories flooding back with every step further into the house he took.

"Welcome to the Halliwell Memorial Museum," the tour guide began. "A tribute to magic and, of course, the Charmed Ones. Please remember there is no digi-capturing, no holographing, and most certainly no magic allowed while inside the museum. That's a big one."

Bianca felt compelled to roll her eyes at the chirpiness of the guide. Instead, she glanced up to Chris, wondering if he'd caught the tour guide's last remark as she had. She knew Wyatt had been paranoid, but this was proof positive his overzealousness and fear had reached extreme levels. It was going to be hard to bypass detectors if he'd set them up somewhere. As if her thoughts were manifesting into reality, a distant whirring noise could be heard.

"Don't worry about those probes, folks," the guide said with a wave of her hand. "They are merely scanning for witches."

Bianca froze, her trained eyes darting around quickly to find the objects. Chris looked up, seemingly more aware of what was around them. Yellow light streamed out from the former living room where the tour guide stood, intricately scanning the crowd. Bianca pulled back slightly, Chris remaining close to the wall so the light's angle couldn't reach them.

"Now as we pass through the foyer note the family portraits hanging on the walls which date all the way back to the witch trials, including one of the grand matriarch herself, Melinda Warren, the woman who literally gave birth to the storied legacy," the tour guide continued, leaving the room and walking further up the hallway.

Chris lowered his head, following the group at a short distance as Bianca peeked around the corner, keeping her body covered by Chris just in case. Craftily, Chris lifted his hand from his face and waved his fingers back in the direction of the probes. Instantly the two security devices turned around, their scanning rays falling upon the mannequin in the corner bearing a dress once worn by one of the Charmed Ones.

"Nicely done," Bianca complimented.

Chris glanced up, ensuring what he had done had worked, and placed his fingers back to his mouth. The group continued behind the tour guide, passing by the roped off conservatory filled with mannequins bearing costumes that once belonged to the Charmed Ones.

"Around you, you'll notice just a few of the many mythological creatures the legendary sisters transformed into in their demon-fighting heyday. Actually, the Charmed Ones were responsible for well over one thousand demon vanquishes before they were finally vanquished themselves," the tour guide informed them. Stopping by the stairway, she lifted her hand and a beep sounded as she hit the button on the remote, repocketing it as the lights dimmed. "Now, the time is twenty-five years ago. Imagine yourselves standing here on this very floor when The Charmed Ones were reborn."

Chris and Bianca stopped by the superhero clothed mannequins, turning to watch the tour guide's enthusiastic gesturing. Chris automatically folded his arms, defensively blocking out the fakeness of her excitement about his family. A large blue holographic screen projected down before them, showing the hallway twenty-five years earlier, bright lights shining down over his mother and aunts, his father standing in the exact same spot that the tour guide now stood.

"_Okay. What was that?" Paige asked, panicking as she withdrew her hand._

"_I think that means you're supposed to be here," Leo explained._

_Phoebe's hand resting on Paige's shoulder, the door burst open, a powerful burst of wind blowing the girls to the floor as a horribly ugly demon who looked like the long haired version of the Hulk appeared on screen, his shirt flapping in the breeze._

The crowd gasped, jumping back. The beaming tour guide raised her hand and turned off the screen via the remote in the same beeping fashion. Bianca and Chris, both with their arms folded and unsurprised at the vision of the creature when they had seen much worse, glanced over to the frightened spectators as they tried to regain their composure. The tour guide laughed.

"Scares 'em every time," she chuckled. "Okay, let's head over to the kitchen where many of the sisters' classic potions were brewed. Some of which are available for purchase in the gift shop on the way out."

A hint of a smile appeared on Bianca's face. The kitchen was the exact place they needed. It had a door leading to the basement, and from memory Bianca knew Wyatt had not placed anything down there. It would have been too hard to manoeuvre everybody in and out, and barely had any light to display anything. It was the perfect place to hide. Glancing over to Chris, she saw his eyes trained on the top of the stairway. He was obviously caught up in memories of the place, although she wouldn't have been surprised if he was also looking out for Wyatt. She moved forward, Chris stepping forward with her. She realised he was paying more attention than she had first thought.

"Of course, the attic was the preferred spot for potion-making, principally because that's where they kept the famed Book of Shadows which is where we're headed next," the tour guide said, circling the bench in the kitchen and exiting through the doorway. "A little background on the manor itself - it was actually destroyed in the earthquake in nineteen-oh-six, but…"

Chris strolled into the kitchen at the back of the group, Bianca following him in as the group turned and made their way out. Chris looked around, his eyes falling on the San Francisco map spread out on the table, the scrying crystal suspended over it. Bianca eyed the table edge, remembering when they'd moved all the furniture in three years earlier. She remembered sitting in that exact chair as Wyatt had brought her a cup of coffee, trying to keep her stamina up for the next round of work. She felt Chris behind her. She was starting to lose her nerve, and she swung her hand behind her looking for his to clasp in comfort. Further back on her right hand side she heard somebody shimmer in. Instantly she snapped back into Phoenix mode.

"Hey, you two, move along," the demon ordered.

"Wait for it," she said to Chris.

Conjuring an athame into her right hand, she held it close to her body, listening to his approaching footsteps. She was grateful that she had learned from her time with the Phoenix to fight blindsided.

"Are you deaf? I said—"

Her hand tightening around the handle, she turned quickly, thrusting the point into the guard's body, satisfactorily watching him go up in flames, the sound of squelching as the metal went through his body like music to her ears. She hadn't felt this charge of adrenalin in a long time, having denied herself any sort of kill because of Chris. She enjoyed the rush, but she wasn't about to admit that. Chris stared down at her hand, surprised at her ruthlessness. He felt trepidation begin to settle in, fear of what she could and did do with such sharp objects, all the time he'd had with her falling away as he remembered what she used to be like. He lifted his eyes to her face, worried when he saw how cold and unfeeling her expression was.

Quickly Bianca walked to the basement door, turning the handle as she looked back to him, the athame still firmly in her grasp.

"C'mon!" she urged in a hushed voice, pushing open the door.

With only a slight hesitation, Chris followed.


	32. Chapter 32

**2026 **_cont._

The heels of her boots echoed as she jogged down the wooden stairway, slowing as she hit the floor. Wetting her lips she looked around quickly, holding the athame high in case she needed to use it again. Chris followed quietly, and at a slower pace, stopping on the last stair and taking a seat on them, letting out a relieved sigh as if he had not sat down in ages. Satisfied that they were alone, the athame disappeared from Bianca's grasp, a sigh escaping her lips as she relaxed herself.

"We should be safe here until the museum closes," she said, turning back towards Chris. "Then we'll go get the book. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Chris replied. How could he tell her he was afraid she was going to fall back into her old habits? He didn't know how to express his fear, his worry, his concern that she was going to turn back into that cold-blooded killer again, and this time he would not be here to keep her from falling. He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders as he looked back to her. "It's just… sometimes I forget who you really are."

"Hey. Come here," she said softly, almost inaudibly, taking a step towards him and pulling him to his feet. Tenderly she rubbed his arms as he looked down at her. It was almost as if he hated her for it. She didn't want him to look at her like she was some kind of monster and she knew she needed to convince him otherwise. "You mean who I used to be, Chris. _Before_ I met you."

"So," he said. She noticed he was smiling; it had been enough to convince him. And that look in his eyes told her he'd moved onto other thoughts. "What do we do now?"

"Hmm," she mumbled thoughtfully, glancing down to his chest, noticing how his shirt clung to the shape of his body. She felt that old familiar charge – the kill, then the craving. She knew he wouldn't care. Her gaze moving back to his eyes she saw he wanted this just as much as she. "We say goodbye."

She phrased it as a suggestion, and for a moment Chris' face went completely blank. Illustrating her meaning, she lifted her hand and slowly began to unbutton her shirt. Chris' gaze dropped to her chest and instantly she knew she had him. It took little more than for her to peel her shirt off for him to move in and kiss her. He slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her closer. Wrestling her way out of her shirt, she threw her arm around his neck, pressing her hand against his shoulder as she pressed her lips harder to his. She raised her other arm, lifting her shirt into the air with nimble fingers and casually dropped it to the side as Chris deepened the kiss. His smooth hands glided further down her back, finding the zipper on her skirt and tugging at the zip as she brushed her tongue over his. Not wanting to break away but pushing herself back with purpose, she opened her eyes and gazed at him lustfully as she started to lift his shirt. Chris picked up on the indication, quickly taking over from her as she looked down, her fingers intertwining around the front of his cargos as she tried to release their hold around his waist, her hands sliding around the back as she pushed them down. Lifting herself back up towards Chris, he pulled her back towards him, Bianca eager to place her lips against his again.

"It's going to be cold," he whispered, breaking away momentarily.

"I'm already cold," she admitted in response.

"Not for long," he said, lowering her to the ground, his foot kicking together their pile of clothes to put something between her skin and the cold stone floor.

Bianca shifted uncomfortably as a button dug into her back. Chris watched her squirming beneath him. Mistaking uncomfortableness for anticipation, he leant down and kissed her again, his hands tugging roughly at her underwear.

"Chris," she murmured through the kiss. Moving her hands between them, she forcefully pushed him back. "Just give me a second."

Arching her back, she placed her hands behind her and smoothed out the shirt underneath. Chris took the opportunity to kiss her exposed collarbone at the nape of her neck. Her heart beating ever faster, his kisses traversed downwards.

"God, you're hot," he stated, tenderly laying another kiss on her stomach.

"Chris," she called, her breath shallow.

Lifting his head, she took it between her hands, pulling him to herself and kissing him wantonly. Chris quickly pulled off his last item of clothing. She felt his hand slide down her side and she opened up to him. They moved at a steady pace, the cold disappearing as the heat of passion overtook them both. Enraptured in feelings of pleasure, they pushed themselves beyond the point of no return, infusing everything they had into what would prospectively be the last time they'd be together so intimately. The view narrowing to the current moment, they ignored all that was around them, seeing only each other, chancing being caught out. His name escaped her lips as ecstasy overtook her. Chris held still, reaching his own climatic pinnacle, then slowly lowered himself down to grace her shoulder with one last tender kiss. His cheek resting against her, she started to worry when after a few moments he still hadn't moved.

"Chris?" she asked softly. Lifting his head he looked down at her, swallowing hard, his eyes glazed over with tears. She drew her lips in, trying hard not to cry herself at the sight of him being so emotional. Gently she placed a hand to his cheek. "Baby, don't."

Lifting his head, he fixed his eyes on the ceiling in an effort to compose himself. He pushed himself back, pretending he'd never been so sentimental in the first place, and lay next to her, pulling her closer to him.

"I don't want to leave you alone," he confided.

After a moment's pause, Bianca said: "I won't be."

Giving a frustrated sigh, Chris asked in an annoyed tone: "Why can't you come with me?"

"Because," Bianca replied. Propping herself up, she moved over him. "Chris, you know I can't leave. It's bad enough one of us is going to disappear let alone both of us. If one of us is here we can hold the fort, we can keep up the illusion. He's going to notice if we're both gone."

"I don't want to do this," Chris said, shaking his head.

"I know you don't want to, but you have to," Bianca insisted. Chris' gaze moved to hers. "I could never infiltrate your family the way you could. You know them better. Besides, I don't think they'd be so welcoming towards me."

"If I like you, they'd like you," Chris said.

"I wasn't talking about that," Bianca said.

Pulling back, she gathered up her shirt, shaking the dust off before threading her arms through the sleeves. Flicking her hair out from the collar, she began to reclasp the buttons.

"What are you doing?" Chris asked, lifting his head slightly from the ground to look at her.

"We can't lie here all day. We have to keep moving."

"But… I thought…" He sat up, his hands splayed behind him. "What happened to waiting here til nightfall?"

"It's dark enough," she stated, standing.

Chris climbed to his feet, slowly redressing himself, in no hurry to bring about his own expulsion. He knew she was worried, but there was still that nagging feeling gnawing at him that she wanted to get rid of him, that she was rushing to reclaim her old lifestyle. She didn't even completely button her shirt; the top two buttons left negligently open as she searched the ground for the rest of her belongings. Finding her skirt tangled amongst his shirt, he lifted it towards her, holding it firmly as she grasped the other end until she looked him in the eye.

"You won't forget this. What you promised."

"No," she said coldly. It was the dangerous glint in his eye that prompted such an unfeeling response, a look that reminded her a lot of Wyatt and consequentially urged her to move faster as she remembered he could appear at any moment.

Letting the skirt go, Chris watched her shimmy into it without giving him a second look before purposefully striding up the stairs. Pushing his arms through his sleeves, he lifted his shirt over his head, his expression concerned as she disappeared back out the door. Cautiously climbing up the stairway, he pushed open the door and saw her yet again staring at the table. He glanced behind him, wondering if he'd just imagined everything that had just happened or whether another guard was suddenly going to appear.

"Can you use this?" she asked without turning around.

"What?" Chris responded, walking towards her. He glanced at the map on the table and the scrying crystal suspended above it before looking to her grim expression. "Who do you want me to look for?"

"Wyatt. I have to know where he is. We've caused enough trouble…" She paused seeing Chris was unconvinced. She needed to explain to him better. "You're family. You've got the strongest bond. It'll be easier for you to locate him. We have to ensure he hasn't been alerted to what we're doing here."

Unhooking the crystal from the wire hanger, Chris circled the map with it, waiting for the point to settle somewhere. Finally it came to rest on a location a fair distance from them on the map.

"He's at the market," Chris stated. "There's no… whoa!"

The crystal's thread yanked violently in his hand, jumping from one point of origin to another on the map, swinging closer towards them.

"He's on the move," Chris said, staring ambiguously at the hyperactive crystal.

"He's coming towards us," Bianca said, panic only slightly evident in her voice as she stepped back and surveyed the room quickly.

Suddenly the crystal dropped, stopping. Chris waited a moment, expecting the scrying crystal to move again. When it didn't, he lowered his face closer to the map, squinting as he tried to read the new location. Taking a step back towards him, Bianca instantly recognised where the crystal had landed.

"He's home," she stated. "We don't have much time. As soon as one of his lackeys finds him or he notices what's happened to his probes he's going to start piecing things together."

"Upstairs?" Chris suggested quickly. She nodded.

Exiting the kitchen, Chris made his way up to the first landing, his gaze precariously glimpsing over the family portraits that adorned the walls. Bianca's fingertips pushed against his middle back gently, her keen eyes keeping a watchful gaze over the ground floor as they ascended. Chris rounded the corner and stopped, looking around. Bianca stepped up behind him. She didn't see the probes emerge from the conservatory on the ground floor, one of the scanners managing to catch the edge of her boot before she reached the next landing.

Cautiously proceeding forward, Bianca headed straight for the door to the attic. Chris following at a lingering pace, he stopped outside the door to his old bedroom, looking in through the open doorway at what lay inside. Pushing open the door, Bianca looked back to see him distantly staring into one of the rooms.

"Chris!" she hissed loudly. He didn't move. Annoyed, she paced back to him. "Chris, this isn't the time to take a stroll down memory lane."

His arms folded, he nodded towards the interior of the room. "You see that ball over there? That's the first thing mom ever bought me that was mine, entirely mine, not some hand-me-down from Wyatt. She used to tell me I could practice my telekinesis on it because it was soft enough not to break anything. You wouldn't think she would have been overly concerned about that with the number of things that were destroyed or needed repair after all the 'visitors' we had."

Studying the colourful ball that had been carefully set on the chest of drawers, Bianca's gaze drifted back to see a reminiscent smile of amusement on his face. Continuing over his shoulder, she saw a probe surface at the top of the staircase, the imminent whirring suddenly reaching her ears.

"Shit," she cursed, silently scolding herself for not having heard it sooner.

Grabbing hold of Chris, she quickly turned the other way and saw another probe approaching them from the end of the hall. Looking back to the first probe, returning her gaze to the second, she tried to discern which one was closer and whether they could outrun them. The scanning rays projected from the one in front of them. Closing her eyes and hoping with all her might that they wouldn't reach the pair, Bianca tightened her hold on Chris and shimmered to the interior doorway leading up to the attic. Chris fell away from her as they reappeared and dropped down onto the stairs.

"Chris!" she cried in panic.

"I'm okay," he said, holding up his hands. "I just wasn't expecting that."

"No you were too busy taking the scenic route," Bianca chastised.

"Can you blame me? He wouldn't let me back in. I haven't seen any of this in years."

Bianca lowered her eyes, beaten. She knew he was right. She'd witnessed it herself. She had no right to tell him that he wasn't allowed to remember his life or that he couldn't have had any kind of existence before this. With a look of sympathy she approached him, taking his hands and pulling him back to his feet.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "Sometimes it's hard for me to believe families can actually care about one another. And that you actually value where you came from."

Brushing his thumb softly over the back of her hand, he joked: "Are you trying to make me worried about seeing them again? Cause you know my paranoia is right about here at the moment."

Holding his folded hand up midway in the air to indicate the level, Bianca felt relief wash over her. He often had that affect on her when she was completely wound up. Chris had a knack for bringing concern down a few levels, and she was sure it had a lot to do with his easy-going nature. Despite this, he was one of the most apprehensive people she'd ever met.

"You won't have any problems," she said confidently.

Moving past him, she began climbing the stairs. Chris turned to follow her, turning every possible scenario over in his head of what could potentially happen.

"I keep thinking they're going to recognise me," he said. Bianca stopped, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"How? You weren't even born then."

"Still…"

"Are you planning on telling them something?"

"No," he answered. Bianca turned back, stepping up towards the door and wrapping her hand around the handle. "What do I tell them?"

Opening the door slightly, Bianca poked her head through the small opening, her eyes quickly searching the room for any more signs of trouble. Surely the most valued part of the house would be heavily guarded. Surprisingly she found it empty.

"Don't tell them anything," Bianca said, the door audibly creaking as she pushed it wide. Chris followed her inside. "Just stick to your cover story. The less they know about the future, the better."

Grabbing the end of the rope from the pole, she speedily unhooked the join, holding the red rope close to her chest as she walked to the other end and re-hooked it onto the other pole, leaving an opening for them to walk through into the 'exhibit'.

"But what if they find out who I really am?" Chris asked in a low voice, quietly closing the door as he watched her.

"They won't," she answered, picking up the idea from Chris and lowering her own voice. "Not as long as you can pass yourself off as their Whitelighter."

Chris sighed, thinking of the arduous task that lay ahead. He nodded his agreement to Bianca as they walked into the restricted area.

"And you're sure I won't lose my powers when I go back?" he questioned.

Bianca lifted her hand to her face, her gaze skimming over the very position she had seen Wyatt conducting his failed spell when she had returned. Nerves began to settle in again at the reminder of his threat. Agitated, she lowered her arms to her waist and hugged herself, her hands slipping back together as she anxiously played with her fingers.

"Yeah, not with this spell. That's why we need it," she explained. He nodded as she turned to face him. "Look, just remember… protect baby Wyatt and you protect The Charmed Ones. Keep them alive for our future."

Chris let out an uneasy laugh, raising his brows at her. "Great, no pressure there."

All the humour left his face as he stepped towards her, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He dropped his head as he stopped before her, the weight of such a task now seeming to take on a physical bearing as well as a mental and emotional one. Bianca watched him with irritation, wondering if he was even taking this seriously anymore. She knew he didn't want to go, but he didn't really have a choice in it at this point.

"Chris, you know you're… you're the only one who can do this," she said, trying to get him to see the seriousness in their situation. She leant forward, brushing his arm with her hand. "You're the only one who can save us."

"_If_ I make it back," he said pessimistically. Now she saw the problem. He felt like he'd been served a death sentence.

"Baby, you have to make it back," she said, lifting her hand and brushing his neck, her finger trailing along his chin. Her entire demeanour softened as she smiled lovingly at him. "_If_ you want to marry me."

Sliding her finger down his chin, she saw him smile back. Tilting her head, she moved in to kiss him, Chris quickly applying his lips to hers as she lifted her hands from his chest and circled the back of his shoulders. His hands slid briefly up her hips as she pulled away. The expression on his face was enough to tell her that yet again she had done a fairly good job of convincing him.

"You really know how to motivate a guy, you know that?" he teased.

Bianca laughed, backing them up and pulling him towards the dais. Letting go of his hand, she walked around to the front of the dais, passing her hand through the holographic copy of the book. It rattled under her touch. Chris looked down at the piece of Wyatt's little handiwork, amazed at the likeness it bore to the real thing.

"Sure you can summon the real book?" Bianca asked.

"Yeah," Chris said, nodding.

"Away from him?" Bianca questioned further. There was a touch of annoyance in her voice, and she knew it was because of the many times he'd hidden it from her.

"Yeah," Chris answered, smirking with an overconfident smugness. "But we won't have much time once it gets here. His demons will be all over us.

Bianca nodded, looking away. She knew this. She was the one who'd been playing watch since they'd first entered the house. She was also the one who had spent more time working with Wyatt than Chris ever had.

"We won't need much time," she said, reaching for him. "Just long enough to send you back to them."

Turning in a circle with a lingering gaze at Chris, she headed for the cleared attic wall. Chris glanced briefly at the book before continuing to watch her. Removing a thick piece of white chalk from her waistband, Bianca gripped it in her hand and placed it against the wall, slowly drawing it downwards as she began to draw the triquetra.

"Hurry," Chris urged. "Before he finds us."


	33. Chapter 33

**2026 **_cont._

Her hand rising again to the top point, she drew the chalk downwards, arcing slightly to join the line she had already made. The triquetra was complete. Sighing, she turned back to Chris, passing the piece of chalk from one hand to the other before tossing it aside. It clattered into the box as she dusted her hands.

"It's time," she announced.

Chris turned, sighing. Fidgeting with her fingers, she slowly walked towards Chris as he quickly strode towards her. She'd never seen him so determined, so resolute – he'd reached a decision about something.

"I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you," he said quickly.

There was no use in her lying to him, no trying to pretend she wasn't miserable about the fact that he had to go. She couldn't play her way out of this one. She wanted him here just as much as he wanted to be here. She didn't know how she could convince him this time, but she knew she had to think of something or else this would all be for nothing. Letting out a breath, she looked at her hand and fumbled to get the ring off her finger. This was the answer – this was part of both of them, it meant something; it was a part of her, a promise, that he could take with him.

"Here," she whispered, taking his hand and placing the ring in his palm. Slowly she closed his fingers over it with her free hand. "This'll remind you of why we're doing this... what's waiting for you here."

A waning smile crossing his face, she moved into his body, immersing herself into the comfort of his arms as they surrounded her, as he held her head against his chest. Lifting her hands to clutch the backs of his shoulders, she closed her eyes. The familiar, relaxed sigh that escaped his mouth made her feel for a moment as if everything was normal, but hearing his words of concern as she adjusted her fingers reminded her it was not so.

"You just make sure you take care of the guards, okay?" he said. Opening her eyes, she nodded, hearing him sniffle as he let her go. She drew back only a little before she felt his hands clamp down forcefully on her arms. It frightened her to feel him go from being so gentle to so merciless in those few seconds. His threatening expression only aided to this as he shook her slightly, trying to get his point across. "Then get out of here. Because if he finds you, if he knows you betrayed him... he'll kill you."

"Don't worry," she said, trying to assure him she knew what he was doing and that she had listened to him. Trying to go back to that playful way of convincing, she tentatively punched him. "C'mon, I can take care of myself."

Lowering her hands to his waist, she noted his grip relaxing, what could almost pass for a smile emerging on his face as he nodded in understanding. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against hers. She was almost inclined to lean up and kiss him when he pulled away. Desperate to feel him under her touch, she kept a hold on him until the very last second, her hand sliding across his stomach as he turned his attention to the holographic book on the dais. Stepping to the back, she brushed her sweaty palms against her skirt, nervously pushing her hair back behind her ears and shaking the sleeves of her shirt out across her palms. How she wanted to hide her hands away in those long sleeves at this instant, to be covered and hidden like she felt she needed to be. She brushed her hands against her skirt again, not knowing what to do, whether to clasp her hands or not. Watching him pull the spell from his pocket, she anxiously waited for him to unfold it. Chris lifted the piece of parchment into the air.

"I call upon the ancient power to help us in this darkest hour. Let the Book return to this place," he read aloud. Glancing at Bianca he finished: "Claim refuge in its rightful space."

His gaze shifted upwards, Bianca in turn following, her eyes searching for what was about to happen. With a flash of light, the book dropped down before them, replacing the holographic copy with its own closed solid form. Bianca stepped back, startled by the sudden appearance. Chris stared in disbelief; for the first time the book was actually before him and Wyatt wasn't around.

"It worked," he said with surprise.

"The spell!" Bianca exclaimed. Chris flipped open the pages of the book. They were empty. Bianca placed her hands on the book, removing them quickly as Chris hurriedly flipped the pages again. "Find the spell."

Flipping the pages forward, Chris flipped back two. The left hand page was empty but the right held a large circular diagram with fancy text. Bianca cemented the book with her own hands as Chris pressed down on the page with his.

"Hear these words, hear the rhyme. Heed the hope within my mind. Send me back to where I'll find what I wish in place and time."

They met each others gaze as he concluded the spell, the triquetra glowing blue on the wall to their side. The lines disappeared as it began to form a mass of bubbling blue and white energy, the flashing light emitting across the room catching their attention. The sound was disjointed and rippling like its appearance. Fearfully they looked back to one another before moving towards it. Stopping in front of the portal, Chris turned back to look at Bianca. There was no spell to come back. This would be their final goodbye, until he fixed things, until the world changed for the better. He did not expect it to end as it did. The sadness in her eyes was quickly stolen by the demon that shimmered in behind her.

"Bianca!" Chris shouted.

She felt him before she heard him, his body close behind her, his arms surrounding her. Her gaze fell to the arm swinging around her body. Instantly she grabbed it, lifting it over her head, twisting it behind his body as she spun herself inwards and lifted her leg, her foot making a forceful impact against his stomach. Clenching her fist, she struck it smartly across his face, his already partially lowered body now making the full trip to the floor. Tossing her hair, she looked up to Chris. His was in a state of shock.

"Go!" she yelled, urging him to leave. He drew back, alarmed. "Go!"

Swinging his legs around hers, the demon managed to sweep Bianca down to the floor. Rising to his feet above her, Bianca managed to reach up and grab his waist, pulling with all her might to get him back down to her level. Chris watched on, finally deciding with a determined gaze as Bianca appeared to be getting the upper hand again that he was going to go, do what he had to do, and make things better for them. If he changed things, demon fighting would not be a regular routine on their repertoire. Quickly he raced into the portal, the energy surrounding and swallowing him up in a bluish hue.

Now on the ground, the demon shoved Bianca away from him, lifting a clenched fist and making contact with her face. She fell to the side, barely having time to recover when he grabbed her feet, flipping her onto her stomach and dragging her back. Wriggling her body to try and force him to let go, Bianca pushed against the floor with her hands, lifting her elbow and smacking him in the face as he leant down towards her. His grip on her fully released now, she turned over, supporting herself with her hands as she lifted her foot and kicked his chest forcefully with her heel. Pushing herself back to her feet, she found she had no other chance to attack, his brief paralysis fleeting as he shoved her backwards. There was no chance of recovery. She heard another demon shimmer behind her, catching her shoulders, his rough hands sliding down her arms and locking firmly around her wrists. He yanked her back against him, the smell of rotten eggs a blatant aroma on his breath. Not about to stop fighting, Bianca tried to wrestle out of his grasp, glaring obstinately at the first demon as he approached her. Raising his hand, he again struck her across the face, her head ricocheting to the side with the force. She knew she was going to be majorly bruised tomorrow.

"Enough!" Wyatt shouted. Peeking through her hair, she could see his sturdy form emerging from the shadows. She had not heard him come in. He circled the first demon, his eyes blazing with furious warning. "Did I tell you to hurt her?"

"But… sir, she started it."

"Close your mouth, you sound like a petulant child. If she started anything it's not without good measure I presume. And the ignoramus of my help would support that."

Turning to Bianca he strode forward, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched her studiously. Bianca again tried to shake the hold the demon had on her, her gaze lifting to Wyatt's face as he stopped before her.

"Bianca," he acknowledged. Using two fingers he carefully lifted away the hair from her face, tilting his head to inspect the bruise before withdrawing without saying a word. "What are you doing here? I don't seem to remember assigning you to a task that had anything to do with the manor."

"I was looking for you," she stated, rolling her shoulder, the muscle beginning to tire from the acute angle at which she was held.

"Well I'd hardly expect for you to find me here when I've been at home all day."

"Not all day. You weren't there when I was looking."

"Fifteen minutes doesn't pass as worth mentioning. You didn't think to wait?"

"I'm proactive."

"That you are," he said, his lips curling into a smile of amusement. "But you still haven't provided me with a reason for you intrusion."

"There was a rumoured threat. I tried to dispel it."

"I see no evidence of that." Turning his head back, he spotted the book lying open on the dais. He walked towards it, circling the wooden ornament until he stood at the front, running his hands along the book's surface as if to assure himself he was seeing the real thing. "What I do see, however, is the book. I've told you many a time not to touch this. How is it that it comes to be here?"

"It was here when I got here," Bianca said.

"Liar!" the first demon spat.

"What did I tell you?" Wyatt asked. Flicking his hand, he sent the demon telekinetically sailing back into the wall. "Stop being so insolent or you'll earn more than a sore backside next time."

Bianca watched the action before her, her gaze following the demon to the floor. She determined Chris wasn't entirely right – Wyatt wasn't in a killing mood, but he was not in a pleasant one either. She lifted her head back to the demon holding her.

"You're going to end up like him if you don't let go. Wyatt's not partial to his prime fighters being damaged."

The demon growled low in response, drawing Wyatt's attention. Bianca again tried to pull forward from his grasp, crying out as the demon yanked her back with force, thrusting her hands toward the floor causing the shoulder tendon to throb painfully. Wyatt showed little sympathy, his main concern being to remain in control of this situation.

"I'm curious, Bianca. How did you manage to get past all my security so effortlessly? You're talented, I know, but you couldn't have evaded and destroyed every one without help," he said.

"She wasn't alone, sir," the first demon spoke up, quickly closing his eyes and shrinking back as he awaited his punishment. Curious at the silence, he opened an eye.

"Go on," Wyatt encouraged.

"There was another boy with her. She sent him through the portal, over there," he continued, indicating towards the triquetra on the wall.

Wyatt looked at the chalked sign, his gaze drifting back to the book in front of him. For the first time he read over the open page. He inhaled deeply, visibly straining to keep himself calm. As his eyes lifted towards her, Bianca struggled to keep a poker face and invariably hide her guilt. She could see he was piecing everything together in his mind.

"It wouldn't take much to guess who that was." Circling the dais, he approached her methodically, towering over her to impress authority. "Where is my brother, Bianca? Where's Chris?"

"How should I know?"

"Because you're…" Wyatt stopped short, swallowing hard and glancing away as he tried to keep his temper at bay. His eyes moving back to hers she saw the betrayal that lay in them. Pleading ignorance was not going to get her out of this one. "I can't even be compassionate towards you anymore."

Lifting his hand, Bianca braced herself for the impact. This was the moment, the one Chris wanted her to avoid, and instead of living up to her promise she was about to be destroyed by his brother for getting between them. But his rage did not touch her; it was the demon behind her who suffered his wrath. All at once Bianca felt her arms fall freely to her sides. She didn't want to move or breathe fearing that perhaps he had missed – but this close, that slight, she knew it was not possible. Almost against her will she raised her hands, rubbing her sore shoulder and then her wrists to take the pain away. Wyatt's gaze fell, watching the motion. He did not move nor speak, causing Bianca to wonder if he was waiting for her to attack him or try some manoeuvre to get away. She chose neither, seeing what disobedience had done to the other two. It was time to try and get back onto his side.

"Thank you," she said.

"I wasn't looking for your gratitude," Wyatt said huffily. "I want your honesty."

"You have it," Bianca maintained.

Wyatt shook his head reproachfully. "Why must you continue to lie to me, Bianca? Why must you insist upon doing things behind my back? You know how I feel about betrayal. Do you honestly think I can forgive you this time?"

Bianca shifted her feet awkwardly She felt as if she were a teenager again being reprimanded by her mother, the Phoenix… Michael. An overwhelming sense of guilt descended upon her, making her indecisive about which action to take. It was the unpredictability of Wyatt that caused her insecurity.

"He went back in time," she blurted out. If she was going down for this, than so was Chris.

"Why?"

"To… see his family," she said. She couldn't lie to him but it didn't stop her from keeping the whole truth from him. "He wants to help them. He wants them to live."

Oddly she found herself revealing the plan in some distorted fashion of what she'd told Chris almost an hour ago. Emitting a mock chuckle, Wyatt looked back to the book.

"My brother and his idiotic plans. Who does he think he is? Hercules? Does he think helping my family will save this imploding world from its own self-destruction? I've tried for many years and found you could only dominate not rescue it. People are too flawed and greedy to make this a humane civilisation."

"Are you giving precedence to error in judgement?" Bianca asked hopefully.

"There is no way you can convince me you feel nothing for him. I didn't allow you to come back so you could make a fool of me. I've been far too lenient with you in the past. I gave you salvation and you've only repaid me with lies and deceit."

Angered, Bianca protested: "I helped you get back this house! I killed people so you could obtain everything in it!"

"And I kept you alive. Do you think you would have survived without me?"

"You arrogant bastard. You think so highly of yourself you're blind to what you're doing! You're not a god! You don't control everyone and everything. You didn't save me the way I needed to be, Chris did that. Even though he doesn't have all your powers, Chris is one hundred times better the man than you'll ever be."

Wyatt turned quickly, snapping his hand closed. Bianca felt her throat instantly close up, an invisible stranglehold throbbing around her neck. Her brown eyes remained stern as she struggled to breathe. Her head began to swim and at this moment Wyatt released her, making her almost collapse forward as she gasped for air.

"See," she wheezed, coughing as she inhaled another breathe. "You don't even have the balls to kill me."

"Your life isn't worth extinguishing. I still find you useful despite your treachery."

"What if I refuse to help you?"

Wyatt chuckled. "I highly doubt that."

"Why? Are you going to torture me some more?" she pressed.

"No, I'm going to make you see reason. I don't know how you allowed my brother to twist your mind the way he has, Bianca, but it's about time you faced up to the reality of your situation."

"I'm not blind, I see it. And it's not pretty."

Rubbing his temple, Wyatt looked at Bianca disappointedly. "You're not getting it. What was the objective of this little plan you and my brother devised? Were you trying to create a happy little future with pink bunnies, picket fences and friendly neighbours for you to live in? You forget, Bianca, if he changes the past, even minorly, it can have a great consequential effect on the future. Without my mother's death I would never have embarked upon this cause; without our meddling, Chris would never have had anything to protest against. All in all I may never have saved you from your wretched life, nor would he have met you."

Bianca's gaze dropped quickly as she realised he was right. They had never considered the domino effect that had led them to this very moment in time. Now she understood why Wyatt had sounded so pompous and arrogant before – he was trying to tell her the truth. She thought he was just being brazen because of his inflated ego, but it was never about him at all. No other person would have offered the opportunity for her to leave that devastation behind. If she had not been killed, she would have continued on suffering until she'd ended it herself – or they ended it for her. No doubt the Halliwell line was so coveted they would have ended up as her targets instead. They would have without a doubt vanquished her. She was skilled, but not powerful enough to go up against the both of them.

"What do I do?" she asked inaudibly.

"Do you realise how quickly your past was catching up with you?" Wyatt continued. She looked up with concern. "I suppose Chris blindsided you to that little factor as well. No matter how far you run, Bianca, you can never escape yourself. Your demons are always with you. You will always be a killer, no matter how much you pretend not to be. It's in your blood. It's part of your life. No doubt the disappearance of one of my guards was due to you. I can't imagine Chris even attempting to spill blood - he's too much of a wimp. How do you think he's going to protect you? He's abandoned you for another time! Another life! You know there's no spell to come back, don't you?"

"I thought… we thought… I just wanted it to be okay."

"And it will. At least if he tries to help me instead of indulging in his own fantastical ideas. But that requires me writing another spell to do that and to get him back here." Wyatt sighed. "As for you, you need to find yourself again. I had a surprise for you, although I don't know exactly how deserving you are to receive it anymore. This will, however, show me if you really are loyal to me and whether you truly want to change your world and trust yourself enough to do so."

Clicking his fingers at the first demon who still lay half sprawled, stunned, and listening in on every detail of the conversation, Wyatt telekinetically lifted him to his feet. The demon stood unsteadily, feeling only a minor sliver of air beneath his feet, his toes finally hitting the ground as Wyatt stopped magically moving him.

"Go fetch Bianca's little prize, will you? And ensure you return with a sufficient number of guards this time," Wyatt requested.

"I'm starting to feel like it's my birthday," she joked dryly as the demon shimmered out.

"Call it a belated gift," Wyatt said. "You weren't exactly around for me to help you celebrate it."

Pulling her sleeves over her hands, she apprehensively looked around the room awaiting what was to come. Consistently she looked back to Wyatt, looking for a change in expression or a clue as to what was coming but he revealed nothing.

"Am I going to like this surprise?" she probed.

"Am I trying your patience, Bianca?" he returned, mildly amused.

"If you're going to punish me I'd rather it not be drawn out."

"He won't be long," Wyatt said indifferently.

Bianca turned her attention to the far wall as a series of demons shimmered in, all dressed entirely in black. Although the faces differed slightly, she could barely tell them apart in appearance. The darkening shadows criss-crossing the walls didn't help her plight any. Cautiously she took a step towards them, her eyes trying to focus on the gift they were bearing. But they hadn't returned with an object, no. They'd returned with a person. She stopped as she recognised the long dark locks, seeing at the forefront of the group stood the one person she hoped never to see again in her life.

"Michael," she gasped.


	34. Chapter 34

**2026 **_cont._

Bianca felt her senses heighten, her heart racing as she remembered the conversation she'd had with Chris. Michael was not a prize for her; she was a prize for him. Wyatt was going to hand her over just as Chris had said. She didn't think to shimmer out, but if she had she probably would have presumed it an impossibility between Michael and Wyatt's magic.

At the moment she thought he was going to move towards her and grab her, he instead fell to his knees. Still, Bianca instinctively took a fearful step back, glancing at Wyatt before inspecting the man before her again. Lowered to this position, the silvery glint of moonlight crossed his face and it was then revealed he was not in the condition she first thought him to be. His alabaster skin was covered in cuts and bruises. His lip was split and still bleeding, the left side of his face inflated with injury. As the demons roughly grasped his arms and tried to haul him back to his feet, Bianca also noted his knuckles were raw and scratches lined the backs of his hands.

"Leave him!" Wyatt ordered. "Allow him to wallow on the ground with his fellow vermin."

Instantly the demons dropped him, letting him fall to the floor again. Like a cat, Michael pushed himself back to sit on his heels. Tossing his head back, Michael's steel-cold gaze fell on Bianca.

"Nice to see you left seclusion with me for this magical monstrosity," Michael said wryly.

Bianca's gaze flickered between Michael and Wyatt as one of the demons forcefully hit the male Phoenix over the back of the head.

"Did you do this to him?" Bianca questioned Wyatt. He shrugged indifferently.

"I might have mellowed him out a little."

Wyatt looked to Michael, watching as the Phoenix defensively tried to knock the attacking demon from his feet. Three more leapt at him, securing him back into the same position. To Bianca he looked like a wild animal that had been caged and tortured.

"I thought you'd be pleased to see him like this," Wyatt commented. "Suffering as you suffered, restrained… quilibet vir faber fortunae suae est, isn't that right Michael? Abuse of magic comes back threefold."

"If that's the case, then you're definitely going to burn in all nine rings of hell," Michael retorted.

"Touché," Wyatt responded. "But let's keep the conversation on you, shall we? Care to tell Bianca what you've been up to all these years?"

"Fuck you," he replied.

"Don't be obstinate, Michael. You're in no position to negotiate your fate. Bianca's making all the choices here. Plead your case to her," Wyatt said. For the first time Bianca saw some emotion in the man, Michael's façade slipping as jealous hatred seared from his eyes upon his gaze sliding back to her. "Tell her how you've been following her for years. Tell her how she's lucky she didn't put a foot wrong or she would be dead by now. Tell her how you used her; how you took credit for everything that she did to elevate your own status, how easy it was to screw with the mind of an innocent young girl."

Each sentence Wyatt spoke drove deeper and deeper into Bianca, each revelation hurting her enough to release those old emotions – the anger, the despair, the hatred. Her heart began to pound furiously in her chest as she stared at the Phoenix witch, getting more and more worked up.

"Don't trust him, Bianca," Michael warned.

"I love it when they proclaim innocence," Wyatt said with mild amusement walking towards Bianca.

"You never felt guilty, did you?" she accused.

"About what?" Michael returned.

"You were the last two people I could trust," she replied, her breath hitching at the emotion expressed in it.

"I suspected it was you," Michael said, remembering the slam of the door. "It's not like we didn't speak about it. You were just too ignorant to notice."

"No, I just believed everything you said was true."

"Hurts doesn't it," Wyatt whispered to her softly, his back turned to Michael. She'd barely realised how close he'd come during her spar with her ex-lover. "The lies, the betrayal…"

"I didn't lie about everything, Bianca. I cared for you, I still do. I wouldn't listen to what this half-wit tells you to do."

She closed her eyes as the tears broke free, streaming down over her cheeks in small rivulets. Opening them and lifting her head defiantly, she glared down at Michael.

"You may care about me, but you don't respect me, and you don't love me. You never did."

"No-one could love trash like you. All you're good for was to be used, abused and thrown away. You would have been more apt to stay as my own private whore than running around destroying all you could have had."

Bianca looked away, sheltering her face behind Wyatt's shoulder as she tried to compose herself, but it was too hard a task when Michael was still trying to bring her down with every second that passed. He hadn't changed at all.

"It's your choice what you do, Bianca," Wyatt urged softly. "I won't stop you."

She conjured an athame into her hand, keeping it well hidden behind her sleeve and Wyatt's body. Her fingers brushed over the cold steel, feeling the ridges where the magical symbols had been engraved. In a way she found it was comforting – to hold a sharp object in her hand, to know what she could do with it. Her eyes hardened, the tears receding as that old familiar coldness began to seep in. Glancing up she methodically began to approach him; her voice taking on a lighter, meeker tone.

"So that's the way the deal works, is it? I go back to you; we do the odd job for him. I get to lick your wounds and make you feel better."

With her left hand she tenderly touched his face, brushing her thumb over his bottom lip. He flinched as she touched the split.

"It was foolish to try and live a normal life. I was wasting energy on pretending. It was always going to be owned by others, never myself. And you do know how to make a woman very happy," she said with a promising smile. Sliding her hand down his neck and partway down his chest, she rested it there for a moment, inching her lips closer towards his. With only a sliver of air between them, she turned her head to the side, her gaze crossing to Wyatt. "Wyatt, may I?"

Seeing her hand clench and unclench as she reinforced the grip on the athame hidden behind her, Wyatt raised his eyebrows interestedly, giving a genial nod of his head.

"You may," he permitted.

Looking back to Michael, the temptable expression gave way to an ugly hatred as she forced her hand into his chest. Crying out in pain, Michael tried to grab at her but she effectively dodged his grasp.

"I don't play by your rules anymore," she informed him. "But at least you taught me well."

"I'm going to kill you," Michael threatened through gritted teeth.

Bianca shook her head. "You can't touch me anymore."

Although she knew she despised him and everything he stood for, part of her found she still loved him – her first love, even if it was unrequited. It deterred her from damaging him to the level she could. Stripping his power was not going to stop him though, it was not going to take away his sharp tongue, it would not debilitate him nor would it eradicate him. With that thought in mind she withdrew her hand from his body. There'd be one more wound to add to the others now.

Doubling over in pain, he glanced up, seething as he forced himself to straight again. Conjuring a fire ball he cast it forward, watching with surprise as it redirected sideways like it was caught in a large gust of wind. He knew Bianca had no power to do that.

"Tut tut," Wyatt scolded, wagging a finger. Michael's gaze shifted to the tall man. It had to have been him. "You don't get to do anything remember?"

"I'm a Phoenix. There's no amount of physical torture you can impose on me to make me break. I can withstand it all."

"You're only going to hurt yourself," Bianca reminded him. "You know what I did to you. The second you try anything it's going to wear you down more."

"Then fix me," Michael demanded. "You owe me, Bianca."

"I don't owe you anything. But you do owe me. You owe me an apology for everything you did to me and for everything you took. Now say you're sorry."

Michael fixed her with a cold, steely gaze. "No."

"Say it!" Bianca demanded. She shifted from foot to foot agitatedly. She hated this, hated how he affected her. Even though she'd put her best defence up he could still get under her skin. She could feel herself starting to break. "You can't give me back anything. The least you can do is say this."

"You're looking shaky," Michael observed. "You don't know who to trust anymore, do you? Who's the one dealing with duplicity? Are you the victim or the instigator?"

Bianca felt the athame slip in her grasp. Quickly she gripped it before it left her hand completely, the sharp ridges digging into her palm, the pain the only thing keeping her away from the adverse thoughts that threatened to plague her once more. Her hand was sweaty now. She was scared. She knew that's why she'd almost dropped the athame. The more time she was giving him the worse he made it for her.

"When this is over, you remember the mess you made of me," she said to him. It was almost an affectionate gesture as she ran her hand through his hair one last time, one that became painful as she clenched her hand and knotted his hair in her fist, pulling his head back enough to expose all areas of his skin. She brought the athame around to the front of her body, placing the blade against his neck with a trembling hand. She fought to keep herself steady, to replace fear with anger. "Say your prayers, Michael. God won't let you in."

Pressing her hand firmly against the hilt, she drew the blade across his throat, quickly letting go of him as he convulsed slightly and slipped to the floor. So much blood, and yet she still couldn't be satisfied he was gone. Flipping the blade's direction in her hand, she drove it downwards into his body, thrusting with such force that upon straightening the athame was lost from her grasp. Breathing heavily, she looked down at the body and snatched the dagger back up. She watched as the blood pooled around his body. She felt nothing. She was numb. It was only as her eyes focused back on herself, on the spray that covered her, on his blood soaking the blade of the athame that she let it fall from her hand. She was shaking now, realising what she'd done.

"Thank you, Bianca. You just handed me the rights to the Phoenix," Wyatt said, passing her by. "Welcome back to the fold."

She lifted her eyes towards him. She didn't understand. She could barely comprehend anything after what had just happened. Wyatt waved his hands urgently at the other demons that stood by them.

"Go tell the others. Their leader is dead, I'm taking over." He turned back to Bianca. "How are you feeling? Must be nice to have a blade back in your hand. What better way to start than ridding this world of a malevolently tainted soul."

"I feel sick," Bianca confessed.

"Bathroom's down the hall if you want to wash up. Just remember to leave it pristine. We can't have the tourists leaving because the authenticity of real blood was too much to handle."

* * *

Bianca stumbled the block back to Wyatt's apartment, limping for no reason she could account for as she clutched the wound in her upper abdomen. Although it was bleeding, she knew it was shallow enough to heal itself, but it still hurt like hell. She stopped outside the building, looking up the scale of the height to Wyatt's window. The light was on. He was home. 

"As he damn well should be," she thought. "After all he's put me through."

She couldn't believe how easy it had been to fall into her old life, how simple it seemed to kill. She knew the world wasn't going to change; she just needed to survive it. She pushed open the door with concerted effort, making her way up to his floor. Lifting her free hand she rapped on the door with the backs of her knuckles. Wyatt opened the door, looking somewhat surprised to see her there.

"Oh, you're knocking now? How civilised," he mocked.

Bianca pushed past him, collapsing onto the couch and letting her hand fall away from the wound. She was too tired to go anywhere let alone put up with his nonchalant attitude.

"Try not to bleed all over the couch. It's new," Wyatt said.

"Well you should have got it in red then," Bianca retaliated snidely.

"I'm guessing you had some trouble."

"No, I just think bleeding's a fun way to pass the time."

"And you're cranky."

"You think?"

Wyatt sighed. "What do you want from me, Bianca?"

"A washcloth might be nice."

With dramatic flair he orbed a cloth to him, rinsing it under the cold water in the kitchen sink before bringing it out to her and placing it over the wound. She pushed his hands away, placing her own firmly over it, wincing at the change of temperature against her body.

"I can manage. Thanks," she said doggedly. "So what has the Imperial Prince been doing in my absence?"

"Writing, delegating, deciding, the usual," he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"That's not very detailed."

"You didn't ask me to be in depth."

"I didn't ask for the cliff notes version either," she pointed out. She lifted the cloth away slightly to inspect the damage then pressed it firmly back down again. "C'mon, humour me. It's not like I can go anywhere for a while."

"Alright," Wyatt said, taking a seat across from her and leaning forward. "What do you know about time travel?"

"HG Wells wrote a book on it."

Wyatt chuckled abruptly. "I thought I was the one meant to be doing the humouring?"

"I wasn't trying to be funny," Bianca said.

"No, you were trying to be evasive. How about we try this again without the time machines?"

"I think you're looking in the wrong place if you expect me to be proficient in Quantum Physics."

"I want your opinion," Wyatt said. "From a wiccan point of view."

"You know it's possible," she muttered. She knew where this conversation was heading.

"And the stretch of time… how long do you think?"

"I don't know," Bianca snapped. "The spell's not specific."

Sighing, Wyatt dropped wearily back into the chair, his eyes studiously focused on the Phoenix. "You must know something about Chris' venture into the unknown, Bianca. You helped him."

"I told you all I know," she said, her eyes purposefully directed away from his. Shifting her gaze to him, she asked: "Why are you so eager to get him back, anyway?"

"I want him home for Christmas," Wyatt said dryly. It was a vague excuse, a bad joke, and he knew she wouldn't buy it. "He can do more here than he can back there. They have enough power between them. I imagine he'd be spending more time socialising and eating mom out of house and home than being of any real use to any of them."

"You're jealous, aren't you?" Bianca questioned astutely. "The spell didn't work for you."

"Why would I want to mess up the natural progression of time? I'm not going to take back what we achieved. I want my family here!" he insisted, pushing himself out of the chair and heading towards the kitchen. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he added: "Don't think I'm incapable of doing a simple spell. I'm writing one that's going to work both ways."

"Challenging."

"Yes." He turned back towards her, narrowing his eyes. "You could try to help me."

"Why would I?"

"Because you want Chris back just as much as I do."

She was silent for a moment. He had indicated to her many times across the passing weeks how pointless it was to have Chris in the past. As of yet things hadn't noticeably changed, so either he was still infiltrating the group or just having a jolly good time as Wyatt suggested.

"I'm going to need someone stealthy who can get away with things unnoticed," Wyatt stated. "There's quite an array of talent in your coven. It's going to be a difficult decision who to choose. Of course I'd prefer to send you being as he trusts you enough to follow you back, but I'm not certain I can rely on you to keep from betraying me."

"So the fact I'm sitting here bleeding on your couch after embarking on one of your ambiguous missions doesn't mean a damn thing?"

"And that attitude tells me you're reluctant to do anything for me."

"I'm not bringing Chris back so you can enforce a replay of Michael."

"I won't hurt him."

"You use every opportunity you can to hurt him. At least he's safe."

"Don't count on it," Wyatt said. She glared at him. "You don't know what he's doing back there. My family couldn't survive it, what makes you think he can?"

It was that minor comment that reminded Bianca that Chris had vowed to destroy every last demon who'd gone after his family. Wyatt was right, he probably was in trouble. She decided to give him a little more time and wait for a sign of change, something to tell her that Chris was trying to make an impact back then. He needed time to make a difference. But Wyatt's opinion was beginning to override hers. She was starting to be scared by the knowledge that this could very well be it – her life was never going to improve. It wasn't meant to.

Looking up she locked eyes with Wyatt. The moment he finished that spell she was going to have to make a grave decision. But right now she couldn't choose.

* * *

_A/N: Another Latin translation "quilibet vir faber fortunae suae est" means "every man is the artisan of their own fortune". Thanks to my lil bud Leo for that one_


	35. Chapter 35

**2027**

"Bianca!"

"Hmm?"

"You're still thinking?"

It was hard for her to think. The heat was unbearable, the sun blinding. The first day of summer only served to remind them of how much they had lost during the earthquake at the end of the last year.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said.

"Well if you don't know, you can at least guess – five or six candles? And do I use plantain?" he questioned. She looked at him blankly, prompting further explanation. "Rat's tail."

"I'm not adept with spells that require herbs, potions and what-not. I… didn't get the chance to learn it all properly."

She nervously combed her fingers through her hair, flashes of those days with Michael racing through her mind. She put her arms around her waist.

"What's the matter?" Wyatt asked.

"Nothing."

"Well obviously it's something, you've been nothing but distracted for the past few weeks. I can't have an assassin working for me who can't keep her mind on the job."

"I'm trying," she argued, but it was flimsy. She knew he was right. The whole time she had been looking, searching, trying to pick up a vital clue that Chris had made some impact. It had been seven months after all – what could he possibly be doing? Nothing had changed.

"Bianca, hello," Wyatt said, clicking his fingers in front of her face, bringing her back out of the vacant stare she'd slipped into again. "Concentrate. You didn't even attempt a guess!"

"Why do you want all that stuff?" she retorted.

"There's a lot of energy involved in holding open a two way door between the present and the past. I need more power."

"But why expend so much time on something so trivial? Nothings changed. He's obviously been unable to carry out his plan," she said. The silent fear creeping up on her, she walked directly in front of Wyatt and fixed him with a hard stare. "What if he's dead?"

"Then we bring home the body," he replied solemnly. "If you're so concerned for Chris' welfare, perhaps you should pay a visit to our good friend Gith and get him to enlighten you. After all it is his safety you desire most, is it not?"

"Yeah," Bianca answered unsurely.

It wasn't so much his safety she wanted, it was him. Her heart ached at the thought of him, at knowing he was some twenty-three years in the past and she had no way of communicating with him. She missed his laugh, his smile, the way he used to talk in his sleep when he was worried about something. She yearned for his touch – the warmth of his embrace, the sweetness of his kiss. She wanted back that little piece of happiness she had found with him.

"Then go set your mind at ease," Wyatt said. Bianca took a step away, but stopped as Wyatt spoke again. "But first – five or six candles?"

"Five. You should form a pentagram if your want any kind of effect."

Leaving him outside the store, she shimmered down to the Underworld. She remembered Chris saying that Gith was practically their closest neighbour, so she searched the caverns around near the wreckage of the one place they had tried to call home until she found his quarters. Undeniably demonic, the bowl that stood towards the centre of the room was a good indication she was in the right abode. Cautiously she walked to the centre of the room, placing her hands on the edge of the bowl. She could hear movement nearby.

"Hey! Demon breath!" she shouted. "Where are you?"

"I'm bloody well coming. Hold your horses."

Emerging from around the corner, he eyed her critically as he walked closer. He was a little annoyed to find her positioned well past any traps he might have been able to lay, wary that she was too close to attack without being seen.

"Oh, a Phoenix," Gith said, spying the mark on her arm. "I should be honoured. You're not here to kill me, are you?"

"No. I need information," she replied.

"Right. What kind? Directions? Advice?"

"I need to open a window to the past."

"Ooh, that's tricky. The past isn't my speciality."

"You deal with wants – then tap into mine."

Gith cocked his head thoughtfully, his eyes lowering to the basin that stood between them. He dipped his finger into the water, swirling it, then swept his hand over the rippling surface. The image cleared and she saw Chris. Her eyes lit up and she smiled at the sight of him, quickly disguising it so as not to alert Gith to her intentions.

"He looks familiar," Gith commented.

"We used to be neighbours."

"Ah, now I know who you are. Not just another pretty face, then."

Bianca peered closer to the image. "What is he doing?"

"Looks like he's reading to me," Gith said, observing Chris telekinetically flipping the page. Chewing on the pen in his mouth, he held his hand up to stop and walked towards the book. Pulling out a pad from under his arm he began to scribble something down. "And taking notes."

An aqua coloured portal appeared before him, swirling in an anti-clockwise direction like a whirlpool spinning backwards. The image widened as Chris approached the scantily-clad blonde who emerged from it. Bianca could see he was in the attic. It was much more brightly lit than nowadays.

"Isn't there volume on this thing?" Bianca asked, curious to find out what business the woman had with her fiancé and what he'd been up to.

"_How much longer do you really expect us to keep him?" the Valkyrie asked._

"_Don't tell me he's complaining," Chris grumbled._

"_Yes. A lot, actually," she answered._

"_I don't believe it!" Chris exclaimed, pushing his hands forward in the air. He was obviously agitated. "Banish the guy to an island filled with beautiful women, and he still complains. I can't win."_

"_How much longer?" she pressed._

"_Until I'm ready," Chris said. She looked away. "Look. I'm sorry, but I haven't finished what I came here to do yet."_

"Who's he keeping?" Bianca asked.

"How should I know? I'm not psychic."

"At least he's still got his mind on the job. Or at least it seems like it. And his powers still work thankfully."

"Well five weeks after he got there, I would hope so," Gith joked.

"_I'd never hurt you, Mist. You know that," Chris said._

Bianca looked curiously down at the image. Why did he say that? Why was he acting as if he cared about her? Her gaze shifted to Gith.

"Are you tampering with this?" she asked.

"No, I'm playing what happened," Gith answered. "This is real time."

She looked down, horrified to see Chris step forward and kiss the woman. Pleading with him to hurry the Valkyrie disappeared back through the vortex. Chris anxiously ran a hand through his hair. Bianca wondered if he was actually thinking of her at that moment. He looked nervous, just slightly. It was fair to presume he was probably worried about what she would think. It had to be some kind of plan, a means to an end. He'd made her promise to stay faithful. He wouldn't have done that unless he'd intended to do the same.

"Why don't I skip ahead a little?" Gith suggested. Bianca nodded.

Swirling the image again Bianca once more saw the attic, but this time Chris was accompanied by three blondes, none of which were the one from the previous vision. Upon closer look she actually saw there were six women in the room.

"Why are they so hazy?" she questioned.

"I think they're trying to project themselves as someone else. The scrying pool finds it difficult to reveal their true image, but it can't be deceived by a false one either."

"_You did it. Nice work, babe," Chris complimented, sauntering over to one of them._

Bianca reeled back. He was so suave, so confidant. He appeared to have taken on those obnoxious qualities Wyatt had.

"Babe?" she repeated with jealousy.

Pressing her tongue to her teeth, she turned her face away as the woman giggled, pulling him in and kissing him. She had seen the woman throw her arms around Chris' neck. She had seen that he was not pulling away. At the mention of diamonds, she turned back, peering closer at the woman. He couldn't have possibly given her the ring, could he? The one thing she had given him to remind him of her, of why they were doing this. He didn't even look as if he cared about their plight anymore.

"_Did you sleep with him?" one of the women asked, the one who appeared to be complaining a lot._

"_No," the woman Chris had been kissing replied, although her tone and appearance as she twirled her hair denoted she was lying._

"_Yes," Chris answered at the same time, his expression stoic and his hands behind his back._

Bianca's ears pricked up at the question. The second Chris answered in the affirmative her stomach turned. She felt nauseous. She stepped back from the bowl as if some distance was going to ease the feeling. Every word he spoke made it worse. Gith quickly changed the image in the bowl.

"Maybe we should go to another time," he said in an almost apologetic manner.

"It wouldn't matter anyway," Bianca muttered.

She heard the soft thud of glass hitting cardboard, and a sigh escape his lips. Cautiously she stepped back to the bowl, looking in, seeing Chris lounging on a couch in a grey t-shirt, his head resting on a pillow. It looked like the back room of a club. She presumed that's where he'd found residence, although she had hoped he would have been able to stay at the manor to get closer to the Charmed Ones. She saw him jump up, fumbling for his pants at the sight of Leo, holding them in front of him. Leo looked at him disapprovingly, his arms folded.

"_Chris, what are you doing sitting around here?" he asked. "Aren't you supposed to be getting to know your new… charge?"_

_Turning back, he saw the same thing Bianca did – yet another blonde walking through the doorway, dressed only in a button-up shirt. She looked surprised at the sight of him. Chris, on the other hand, looked nothing but guilty, scratching the back of his neck as he sat back down, dropping his head onto his fingers. _

"_Oh, uh… hi Leo," she said awkwardly, trying to pull the hem of the shirt down._

"_Okay, look, before you get mad you were the one who wanted me to have a charge in the first place. Remember?" Chris said quickly as an excuse._

Bianca shifted restlessly. Did she really want it spelled out in front of her? It was plainly obvious what had been going on. Chris' excuses meant nothing by now.

"_Yeah, to protect her," Leo said, irritated by his justification._

"_Oh, he was using protection," the blonde said, nodding._

"_Yeah, I don't think that's what he meant," Chris explained._

"_Chris, are you out of your mind? Aside from this being totally out of line, it's completely against the rules," Leo lectured._

"_Yeah, you're one to talk," Chris scoffed, making himself comfortable._

"_Oh, I don't think that's his point," the blonde said in an attempt to sound intelligent. Chris sighed, Leo glaring at the woman until she threw her hands up and decided to leave. "Why don't I just, um… leave you two alone?"_

"_Look, I was just having a little fun. What's the big deal? It's not like I have anything pressing to do anyway," Chris griped._

"_You don't have anything pressing?" Leo questioned. Chris shrugged. "Then why exactly did you come back from the future in the first place?" _

"_Uh… I don't know," Chris said, thinking it over and then giving a casual shrug. "I forgot."_

"_You forgot?" Leo repeated. Chris laughed, amused at himself._

"He forgot?" Bianca questioned, crushed.

Everything was ruined. Chris didn't know what he was supposed to be doing. Somehow Leo had an idea of who he was, which angered her all the more because he had not followed what she had said. He wasn't supposed to tell any of them who he was. And now he was just sitting there, taking enjoyment out of this whole situation. Had he intended to do this all along? To escape back to the past just so he could run away from his brother and do whatever he pleased?

She watched as Leo orbed out, the blonde immediately making an appearance back in the doorway, swinging her body in its frame with sheer delight on her face. Chris smiled, nodding and shifting his shoulders as she came back into the room.

"Turn it off," Bianca said.

"Why? Maybe you can get—"

"I said turn it off!" she yelled. "I don't want to see anymore."

Turning away she bit her lip, wrapping her arms around herself. How could she have believed Chris? After all this time he was just manipulating her, all along he had been using her to get to the book, to get past Wyatt, just so he could escape back to that. It was no wonder he'd wanted her to lighten her hair. Although it wasn't like the rest of those girls, it still showed he had a penchant for blondes. He'd just taken from her what he could and gone, just like Michael. She wondered how many other girls he'd had on the side while he was professing his love for her. She hated herself for being blinded by love, for letting him get so close that he was able to shield her from everything he had been doing when she wasn't looking. She wasn't about to let him win this. Wyatt wanted him back; then she would bring him back. She despised the very thought of Chris now. He deserved to be punished.

Materialising in the shadows, Wyatt walked forward, watching Bianca walk away with her arms folded, shimmering out before reaching the door.

"I presume she didn't get the answer she was looking for," Wyatt commented. Gith gave him a wry smile.

"He's been one very naughty boy from the looks of it."

"My brother?" Wyatt questioned with a surprised laugh.

"Leo didn't appear too pleased with him."

"That hasn't changed," Wyatt said. He walked closer to the scrying pool, peering in for the image she'd seen but the water's face remained blank. "I trust you showed her what she needed to see."

"I think she's gathered enough resentment to carry out what you want her to."

"Good," Wyatt said. "She's the only one he's going to listen to. I never imagined he'd be the one giving her ammunition to do it."

"Love is a funny thing. It's the sweetest way to hurt someone."

Wyatt's expression darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't know she was engaged to him, did you? She's entirely off limits," Gith mocked. Racing forward, Wyatt's hand came to rest firmly around the demon's scrawny neck, pushing him back against the rock wall and lifting him from the ground. "I know what your greatest desire is. You want the one thing you can't have."

Face flushed with anger, Wyatt tightened his hold, lifting and throwing back the demon again, his skinny body harshly hitting solid rock. Seeing Gith's eyes firmly fixed on the pool, Wyatt chanced glancing back. He was revealing the image. A wavering picture of a woman with long light brown hair began to appear. Wyatt glared heatedly back at Gith.

"Do not cross me!" he shouted.

Gith had little chance to reply. Staring on in abstract wonder, Wyatt was baffled to see the demon disintegrate under his touch. His skin darkened to charcoal black, burning red embers showing as the ash fell away, a twisted terrified expression literally dropping from his face. There was nothing but air beneath Wyatt's hand as the demon crumbled to the floor. All around him Wyatt heard cracking, the walls breaking, rock falling to the floor and the unkempt appearance of the lair tripling in dirt, grime and mysterious webby things on the wall. The lights dimmed to almost nothing, Wyatt noting the whole cavern looked suddenly grimmer and devoid of life. The wall to his right fell away and he could hear scurrying. Millions of tiny legs raced towards him. He barely caught sight of the first league of large bug-like creatures when he orbed out, not wanting to stick around for the trouble that awaited him.

* * *

Wyatt stood back, looking at the masterpiece he'd created. A perfectly rounded table draped with a purple cloth, five white candles neatly set around it at the five points of a pentagram, a bowl laden with plantain seated in the centre…

He twisted his lips thoughtfully. It looked a little off. Leaning towards it he shifted the bronzed object into a better position, turning to look at Bianca as she came storming in.

"Have you finished the spell yet?" she demanded.

"Why? Is there some kind of rush?" he asked, moving away from the table. Bianca stopped before him. He could see the anger written all over her face. It amused him to no end seeing her fired up like this. She always did her best work in this frame of mind. "You're so eager, Bianca."

Glancing down at the bowl, Bianca saw he had filled it with red plantain. Beside the fractured bowl lay a folded piece of white paper. Quickly she made a grab for it, flipping it over in her hands as she tried to unfold it. Taking hold of the top edge Wyatt snatched the paper away from her. Looking up, she glared at him, seeing him looking back at her with the same kind of irritation.

"I didn't give you permission to touch this," he said.

"You wanted me to go, didn't you?" she retorted. "Then let me go."

"You have no patience," Wyatt said, folding the note back into his hand. With one swift manoeuvre he buried it in his back pocket.

"I waited seven months! That's patience enough."

"And each of those months you did whatever you could to deter me from doing this."

"I want to go back," she insisted. "I want to bring you Chris. He's only wasting time like you said he would."

"Which is why I wonder why you ever believed what he said in the first place," Wyatt said.

"Because he gave me reason to. Every day I kept hoping things would get better. It's not going to. Let me bring him back and then we'll start again."

"What makes you think he's going to listen to me this time?"

"He will," Bianca said. "More than anything I believe you now, and he will too. I'll make him see things our way."

"One half-hearted discussion is not going to work."

Bianca shook her head, indicating that was not what she had in mind. "I'll show him."

"Like I showed you?" he asked. She nodded.

"First-hand experience is the quickest learning curve."

"You really think you can bring him back?" Wyatt questioned, a look of uncertainty appearing on his face.

"I'm sure of it."

"You know if you don't come back, Bianca, I am going to send more assassins after you."

"You won't need to. I won't fail you."

Pulling the piece of paper back out of his back pocket, he glanced down at his hand, lifting his gaze back to her. She didn't move. She was wise enough not to try the same trick twice, instead waiting with as much patience as she could muster for him to give support or instruction. Wyatt walked towards the wooden table nearby, picking up the lighter that lay amongst the glassware. Returning to Bianca, he began to light the candles surrounding the bowl.

"What are you going to do with him… when he comes back?" Bianca asked, watching as Wyatt lit the last two candles.

"It depends upon his frame of mind," Wyatt replied. "I only ask for his help. I don't want to keep playing the same game over and over again."

"Are you going to hurt him?"

Wyatt raised an eyebrow as he surveyed her. She almost seemed as if she wanted him to, but from the underlying phrasing he knew that wasn't truly the case.

"I don't intend upon bringing him back so I can beat him up," Wyatt answered. "However he will be dealt with accordingly."

"How?" she pressed.

"I know you're concerned, but you needn't be. I'm not going to hurt him. I promise."

"When can I go?"

"I don't see what's stopping you from leaving now… apart from those clothes. Heels, tight skirts and flappable tops aren't going to get you very far," he stated. Bianca set her jaw, irritated by his critique of her appearance. Orbing a folded pile of dark clothes into his arms, he offered them to her. "Here. You'll be more camouflaged this way."

"I'm not wearing something because you told me to."

"If I give you a gift, Bianca, I expect you to accept it."

"Fine," she said, snatching it out of his hand. "I'm not changing in front of you."

"There're bedrooms and a bathroom downstairs. I didn't think you needed to be reminded."

Eyes blazing, she shimmered down to the second level, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her walk away in defeat. She tossed the clothes onto the bed, assessing them. Black vinyl pants, a micro belt, a vest with buckles… She moved the pieces separately. That was all. No extra. She looked at the vest again wondering if it would even fit. It was bound to show everything. She didn't understand why Wyatt would want her to appear so alluring, although it would help being as Chris' mind was thoroughly in his pants now.

Pulling off her shoes, she conjured a pair of dark boots to match the outfit, laying them aside as she quickly changed. The belt, she found, threaded neatly around her waist. The vest, although a tight fit, managed to cover her body in all the right places. Passing the last front strap through the buckle she pulled tightly, feeling secure as the material clung to her body. Raking her fingers through her hair, she looked quickly around the room, kicking what she was leaving behind underneath the bed and reaching for her boots. With them snugly on she shimmered back up to the attic, folding her arms self-consciously as she watched Wyatt.

"You're sure you can handle this?" he asked.

"I can."

"Go stand by the wall."

Acquiescently, she turned and made her way over to the triquetra. It had faded some since she drew it, but Wyatt refused to clean her vandalism off. He wanted it kept there for Chris' return, and to remind her of that fateful day when she had lost two of the greatest loves of her life – one through time, the other by her own hand. And they had both betrayed her. It was a torturous reminder of every mistake she had ever made.

"Ready?" Wyatt asked. She nodded quickly. Unfolding the paper, Wyatt read the spell he had written aloud: "Hear these words, hear the rhyme. Heed the hope within my mind. Reopen the window, reopen the door. Let those in the past evade us no more. Send this witch through time and space, then return again to the rightful place."

Lifting his eyes towards Bianca he refolded the note and tossed it into the bowl. It flared brilliantly, and then nothing. Looking at Wyatt discontentedly Bianca saw him shrug before a bright flash almost blinded her from the side. It had worked. Like before the triquetra was glowing and rippling. Tentatively she put a hand to it, drawing back slightly at the unctuous feeling moving against her skin. She looked back to Wyatt, reminding herself of why she was doing this again, and with a more purposeful stride walked into the vortex.

Wyatt watched it close behind her, barely moving but keenly listening as he heard someone shimmer in behind him.

"Sir! We received word there was Phoenix activity in the residence," the demon announced.

"I know. I sent her away on a new job."

Looking around quickly, the demon saw there were no other signs of trouble. More demons shimmered in by him, backup for the alert to danger.

"Do you wish me to go, sir?" he asked.

"No. Stay a while. You might be needed," Wyatt responded, his eyes still trained on the wall. "I want to see if she brings me any results."


	36. Chapter 36

**2003**

Emerging on the other side, the first thing Bianca noticed was the quietness of the room. The attic was cluttered but in a somewhat organised fashion. Although it was difficult to tell what was what, her vision could make out the closest objects nearby. Hearing footsteps on the stairs she dove behind the large couch seconds before the overhead light switched on. Peering around the edge she saw Chris approach the dais and flip through the book. He paused on a page, reading the details over.

"Chris? Are you up there?" Leo called.

"Dammit!" Chris cursed. "How am I meant to concentrate with him around?"

Bianca knew he resented his father. His urge to avoid him drove him downstairs. Bianca waited for a few minutes before following, pausing at the top of the stairs leading up from the ground floor and watching the two men below.

"I'm going to the club," Chris announced, sweeping up his dark hooded jacket.

"To do what?" Leo interrogated.

"None of your business," Chris replied. Opening the door, he spun back on his father. "Look, you're not their whitelighter, I am. It shouldn't matter to you anymore. I don't know why you even bother to hang around."

Chris left, slamming the door behind him. Irritably Leo turned back towards the living room and made his way back inside. Bianca crept down the stairs, keeping a close eye on the doorway as she snuck past. Opening the door, she closed it quietly behind her and continued her pursuit of Chris.

Neon lights blared in the darkness as they reached P3. Bianca looked up at the glowing sign. The queue to get in was a mile long. She remembered Wyatt having mentioned this club many times; it was what had started him on his quest for the destruction of corporate power. She had forgotten all about those days, the times they had spent together fighting side by side to reclaim what was his and to bring down the authorities who quashed small industry.

She followed Chris into the crowd and saw him weaving ahead of the masses of traffic until he reached the bodyguard standing at the door. He only needed to mention a few simple words before the door was opened for him and he was allowed in ahead of everyone else. Bianca didn't have the same privilege; she wasn't a blood relative or even known in this time to these people. Making her way around the back where there was little company but a few stray rats, Bianca shimmered into the club, directing her reappearance for the back room where she was sure no-one would be residing. And if there was, well, she'd just have less people to deal with. She was used to taking on small groups of people. Finding it empty, and in darkness, Bianca made her way over to the door, opening it a small crack and peering outside. Chris was near the bar heading very quickly towards where she was. Closing the door again, she took a seat in the armchair and awaited his arrival. The element of surprise was clearly going to work in her favour.

She stared ahead in the darkness, listening for the door. She felt her anger starting to build again as she remembered everything Gith had showed her. Every image of Chris' treachery upset her more and more. She pondered what she would say to him, what she would do. The moment would soon arrive. But he didn't know she was here, he didn't know she knew. She'd have to act completely normal until then.

The door opened and the light flicked on. She turned her head towards him, giving a small smile. He was shocked, surprised, and obviously didn't want anyone else to know she was here as he softly closed the door behind him.

_So smug, the guilt's written all over his face,_ she thought.

Pushing herself out of the chair, she stepped towards him as he approached her. He moved as if he'd been stunned. Her appearance had obviously thrown him.

"Bianca…" he uttered. His mouth moved as he looked at her, straining to get the words off his tongue. "I don't understand. What are you doing here?"

"Shh," she cooed, tilting her head and placing a finger against his lips. "There'll be time to explain later."

Turning her hand, she intimately dragged her finger down his chin, his neck, his chest, following the motion with her eyes.

"But for now…" she continued subtly.

She stopped just below the opened buttons of his shirt, lifting her gaze to meet his. She had him. He was already leaning forward to kiss her.

_Bastard,_ she thought.

Her expression darkened immediately as she plunged her hand into his chest. She gripped as hard as she could, watching his jaw drop open in pain and shock. She wanted him to feel it, feel the pain he had caused her, the heartbreak she felt after seeing what he had done. Slowly he began to sink, his power slipping from his body and through her hand. The vigour of the attack had her captivated. She didn't expect to be interrupted. She didn't expect his mother to walk through the door.

"Hey, Chris, you know all work and no – hey!" she cried.

Bianca pulled her hand from Chris' body, generating an energy ball and tossing it towards Piper. It was a reflexive attack. She didn't have time to consider who was standing there or what effect damaging her might have. But Piper's attack was quicker. The woman lifted her hands and blasted both her and her energy ball apart. Particles scattering, Bianca quickly focused on the image of where she had shimmered in from. It was dark and secluded, the safest place to reform away from everyone. Chris knew she could reform. But apart from that no-one else did... unless he'd told them.

Black ash swirling like a tornado, she struggled to balance as she pieced herself back together. Dropping her hands, she tossed her hair over her shoulder as she looked at the door behind her, fire in her eyes as she glared at the place where her attack had been flawed and she'd been ambushed herself. She wasn't happy. With those witches protecting him, she wasn't going to be able to complete this job as quickly as she'd hoped. Turning back towards the open end of the alley she strode forward angrily, shimmering out after only a few steps.

* * *

Bianca decided to wait until it was light before she went after Chris again. It was going to be difficult this time. She'd already attacked him. He was going to be wary of her, and she couldn't try the same tactic twice. But unless he wanted to kill himself he was going to have to listen to her reasoning.

She shimmered into the memorial garden, looking at her surrounds. Everything was so idyllic, so picture perfect. The bridge looked beautiful in the early morning light. The garden had been carefully tended to. There was so much colour around her; it was hard to believe that this was the same bleak and broken spot they had left behind. She turned her attention to the stone angel statue. Its wings were round and shapely, and this was obviously long before it had been beheaded. She walked over to it, running her fingers along it. She remembered the first time she had come here, when she had met Chris and he had changed everything. The day he had opened her eyes to the destruction around her. She wondered how she had been able to believe him so easily, this wasn't going to stay. It was going to dissolve anyway, no matter what he did back here. She chuckled to herself. She knew he wasn't doing anything except partying and sleeping around. Why did she even entertain the thought he was going to be able to save them?

Following the indentation of the wings, she walked around to the back of the statue, pausing as she heard the shimmering sound of orbs nearby. Glancing up to the sky she monitored the position of the sun and saw that it had to be a little after eight. Listening again she heard that the orbs were taking an awfully long time to manifest. She heard a gasp for breath. It sounded vaguely like Chris. She had managed to damage him sufficiently. Her hand still on the statue, she circled it to the front again and saw Chris seated barely on the edge of the stone seat.

"You really shouldn't try to orb anymore, you know?" she said, putting her hands on her hips as he looked back to her. She walked closer to him, giving a cold-hearted shrug as she kept her tone melodic and mocking. "It could kill you."

"Is that what you want?" he grumbled.

She laughed lightly. "If that's what I wanted, you'd already be dead. All I want is to bring you back."

She circled around him. His hands remained on the bench. He wasn't going to threaten her. Although it was a slight comfort, she found it odd that in any other case she would be the perennial victim of a punishable attack. Instead he remained quiet, like he was a young boy who had behaved badly and been caught out. She wondered if subconsciously he had worked it out, if he had remembered their last moments together, if he'd felt guilty for what he'd done.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" he asked gravely.

"Same reason you knew I'd be waiting here," she responded in a cunningly playful manner. "I mean, this is still our spot… isn't it?"

"No," Chris responded, shaking his head. Dropping her hands she looked at him in surprise, wondering if he'd completely lost his mind. "This is what we hoped it would be. This is what we were trying to preserve for our future. Do you remember?"

She sniggered. He thought she had lost her mind. What kind of reason had he come up with for her coming back? Was that the best he could do - she was so insanely crazy she was going to rip him away from the comforts of the past and sabotage their plan? He obviously thought she was the one who had forgotten what they had set out to do, not him. This was a poor excuse for a cover-up story.

"We were naive to think we could change anything, to stop him," she said.

"You don't believe that," Chris stated.

She stared at him. Blinking, she tried not to succumb to his reasoning. She had fallen for it once. She had believed his lies. She couldn't do that again.

Doubt and disappointment filled Chris' voice as he saw her subdued reaction. "Or at least you didn't."

"Well I do now," she responded assuredly.

"What happened to you, Bianca?" he asked suspiciously. She knew he was blaming Wyatt. He always blamed Wyatt. "How did he turn you back?"

The memory flashed back into her mind. Wyatt whispering to her he wasn't going to stop her. The blood trailing from the split she had made as she severed Michael's skin by ripping the blade across his throat. Chris didn't know about Michael. She never spoke about what he had done to her. Yet here Chris was turning into him.

"That's not important," she insisted, lifting her leg onto the stone bench and leaning on it. "What is important is that I was interrupted in stripping you of your powers. And if I don't finish what I started, you'll die soon. Think of it as… an infection. And I'm the only one with the antidote."

She felt quite pleased with the little analogy she had come up with. She was grateful that, despite his little betrayal, she still held some kind of power over him. He still needed her, even if he was acting as if he didn't. Granted she had caused the problem in the first place, but if they had all just made it simpler for her he would be home by now.

"Here or there, I am dead anyway," he retorted.

"No. He gave me his word he wouldn't hurt you," she said, straightening. Chris groaned. Why was he acting like such a whiny little child? He was so stubborn. "Please, Chris, don't make this any harder than it has to be."

She felt a sting of shame that she'd resorted to begging, but it was difficult to be so hard on him. She began to feel a little sympathy for him. He looked so upset that she had told him he had to go back, that he had to give in to Wyatt. He swallowed hard, sniffling as he looked at her. His eyes glazed over as if he were about to start to cry. She held his gaze. He was going to break her down so quickly, she knew it. But then he did something she didn't expect – he orbed out. She reached forward, trying to grab hold of him before he could completely disappear. She had heard his orbs travelling slower before. She presumed she would have been able to grasp him, steadying her wrist with the other hand as she prepared to pull him back, but her fingers found only air as he completely disappeared. She looked at her clenched hand irritably, lowering them both and glancing around, ensuring no-one had seen them.

Taking a seat on the stone slab, she waited to see if he would come back. He didn't. She tried to run the possibilities over in her mind of where he could possibly have gone to. The club wasn't open, but she had found him at the manor the previous night. No doubt he would have run back to his family to protect him, knowing his mother had an effective way to deter but not destroy her. He couldn't go anywhere else for medical aid – she was the only one who could fix him. But with Chris being so evasive and his family so overprotective she would have no chance of getting to him again. She needed to distract them somehow. Her mind drifted back to her days with Michael. She didn't want to remember, but she knew she needed to. Despite his faults he had been a good teacher and she needed to rely on those skills to get her through this. She needed to remember everything she had learnt. It was in this pensive moment she remembered reading about the Charmed Ones. They had almost been ripped apart by their lust for a life outside of magic. She needed a spell to target that, to inflate it, just something temporary that wouldn't impose any changes but would buy her enough time to get to Chris. She needed the Grimoire and, if memory served her correctly, it would be at her mother's.

She stood outside the sandstone apartment block and looked up, feeling much as she had the day they'd moved in. It was foreign. It wasn't home.

Opening the door she began to climb the stairs. She hadn't seen her mother in almost a decade. It was going to be difficult to see her again. She wondered what she would say to her, and how exactly was she going to convince her to give her the book. Rapping on the door she waited. Minutes passed with no answer so she tried again. It seemed like no-one was home. She knew that would make things easier.

Cautiously looking around, she shimmered inside. She hadn't dared to do this earlier in case someone was home. In such a confined space she knew her mother wouldn't hesitate to attack. The place was empty of life, as she'd thought, and Bianca was grateful for the solitude. She tried to think back to when she had leafed through the book. She remembered there was a book of spells she'd been reading in the living room trying to find one to resurrect her father to celebrate her birthday. She remembered how alone she'd felt, how she thought he would have been the only one to care. The memory of her mother's ignorance burned inside her, the thought of that fateful day reminding her of her terrifying initiation into the Phoenix coven.

Moodily she stormed into the area, enraged as she set her eyes upon those dim grey walls with the ugly black stripes. She turned towards where the bookshelf should have been and found it almost empty. Quickly she swept the books aside, looking for the one she wanted. It wasn't there. Frantically she looked around. Where would her mother keep it? If she was smart she'd pick the least obvious space. Bianca's eyes fixed on the pink toy chest that sat between the red & blue chairs. It had served as a table for her tea parties back in her younger days, the large pink bear and yellow rabbit were still seated comfortably in the plastic seats as evidence of that. No-one would look in a child's toy chest, would they? Bianca raced over, tossing the red chair aside. She fixed her fingers into the lid of the chest, lifting the entire square box into the air. The corner caught on the feet of the pink bear as she yanked it into the air, upending the soft toy in its seat and knocking the framed picture on the wall askew with the open end of the box. Inside she found a puppet, a pink star container, and a bunch more soft toys. Wondering if it was buried she pulled each item out, tossing them onto the floor. Disgruntled to find it wasn't there, she cast the toy box to the side. Where did she ever get the idea that her mother was intelligent? After what she'd done to her it was obvious she wasn't.

Bianca turned and looked behind her. There was a small pile of magazines sitting on the top of the lower cupboard. There was also a pile of shattered glass. She approached it quickly, tossing the magazines aside as she glanced at the cover of each. Marvellous how all these celebrities had aged and faded away. Crouching down she opened the doors. Here were more books. But the collection was still few, and as Bianca inspected each cover, finding it not what she wanted, she threw it towards the middle of the floor. Swivelling, she looked at the mess she had made in the centre of the room, each book and magazine littered the right and left sides of the carpet. One book had made it so far that it almost reached the other side of the room. But she could see nothing that looked remotely like what she had came for. Turning her attention back to the cupboard she saw another book hidden far up the back. Reaching in she pulled it out and set it on her knees. It was her mother's organisation diary. She was surprised she didn't have it on her. She must have been in some kind of unplanned rush to have it stowed away like that. Flipping the pages, Bianca felt that same rush of disappointment she had all those years ago. Where were the childhood activities? Where were the notes that showed she actually cared more about her daughter than her job? They were all meaningless names scrawled on these white pages with faded yellow printouts of the information she had been given slipped in-between. She wanted to tear the book to pieces, but the hardbound cover wouldn't allow for that. Tetchily she flung it aside, its pages sprawling on the far end of the room. Rising, she spotted the green vase sitting atop the cabinet. Sweeping her hand behind it, she pushed it from its place until it smashed ahead of her on the wooden floor. Every piece of destruction she caused gave her a small feeling of victory over her mother. She didn't have to be here to witness it. Just knowing she'd destroyed something of hers made Bianca feel better.

She stamped forward through the shattered pieces, crossing the stylised orange rug to the armoire on the opposite end of the room. She slipped her fingers between the crack, pulling the doors open and pushing them wide to get a greater view of the interior. She started on the bottom shelf, quickly discarding the biggest objects – a yellow and a pink throw pillow. She was getting sick of seeing those colours. She lifted the lid on the white box next to them. Immediately seeing it was empty she wasted no time throwing it in the same path, the large red throw pillow with the tasselled border that sat next to it joining the collection. She started on the middle shelf next, tossing aside the books almost without giving them a secondary glance. She remembered what the Grimoire had looked like now. It was red, a dark picture on the front, with steel borders. None of these had those. She started to discard them faster. She knew she was running out of time. If she didn't get to Chris soon he would die.

She heard the faint backwards sound of someone shimmering in behind her. She knew she didn't need this distraction.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Lyn demanded upon arrival.

Bianca paused momentarily to look back at her mother, a glossy book on the architecture of mansions in her hand. "Where's the Grimoire?"

She didn't wait for her mother to answer before turning back to the job at hand. Books, books, goblets and urns. She didn't want to have to go through all these. She heard her mother power up an energy ball behind her, growing all the more frustrated that yet again her mother was not going to help and just let her struggle on her own against upsurging dangerous measures.

"One more time," she stated defensively. "Who are you?"

Bianca turned, only slightly frightened to see her mother threatening her. Was she going to kill her? That was going to do Chris the world of good. Not only would he keep suffering until he killed himself, but Wyatt was likely to send more assassins back after him to complete the job before it happened.

"Who do you think I am?" Bianca snapped, slapping her hand down on the shelf. Lifting her arm she presented her birthmark to her mother. She should have seen it before. If she'd been a little older she would even remember Bianca cutting into it, trying to sever the life she had forced her into. The scars and bruises were long gone now. All that remained was the symbol of the Phoenix, burned onto her flesh like a never-ending curse. Lyn's eyes widened in recognition as she looked at it. Bianca's tone was nothing short of bitter. "Mother."

Lyn allowed the energy ball to smoulder in her hand, curling her fingers as she put it out. She looked surprised and in awe to see the image of her daughter all grown up, standing before her with some great quest in hand.

"Bianca?" she whispered, lowering her hand.

"In the flesh. Now, where's the Grimoire? I have to get the Charmed Ones off my tail fast. I need a spell to do it."

She turned back to the books and magazines, pages fluttering as she manoeuvred them out of her way. Lynn shook her head, completely confused as she tried to get her head around the situation, around the very sight that her own daughter – grown up no less – was currently ransacking their home.

"I don't understand. How is this possible?" she questioned.

"Look, I don't have time for reunions, okay? And I'm not about to make the same mistake a thousand other demons have made now where's the damn book?" Bianca asked, her voice elevating until she was yelling at her mother, unable to restrain her anger any longer. With a look of acquiescence, Lyn flicked her hand in a circular motion, gesturing towards the coffee table. A red glow appeared, a journal sized book materializing in the aura. "Thanks."

She did not deliver the word kindly, the bitterness and resentment overriding the sentiment in both her delivery and the glare in her eyes. She climbed over the mess she had made, the white cardboard box crushed underneath her boot. She did not care to be careful in the home she despised. Picking up the book, she rapidly flipped through the pages looking for the spell she needed to supply her with extra time.

"Do you know where the inhibition spell is?" she asked her mother quickly.

"How is that going to help?" Lyn retorted.

"Look, I know the Charmed Ones. I've studied their history," she snapped, glancing up at her mother. She had to be difficult. And yet again she was belittling Bianca as she used to – as if she didn't know anything. Bianca was determined to prove her wrong. "This is when they all want their separate lives. If I can release their inhibitions, maybe I can get them to pursue them."

"The spell won't last long," Lyn advised.

"It doesn't have to. Just long enough to distract them so I can get what I came for. Got it," she said, finding the spell and tearing the page from the book. She cocked her head slightly, eyeing her mother with disdain as she placed the book back onto the table, delivering her gratitude in the same cynically blunt manner: "Thanks."

"Wait! I…" Lyn protested as she rushed past her. "Do you have to leave so soon? Can't I help?"

Bianca stopped, swallowing. The word help was a funny notion coming from her mother. Her idea of helping was to throw her into the middle of something she didn't want to do. Where was she when her father was killed? When she was nearly killed? Where was she when Abe handed her the knife and told her to slaughter her first victim? Pain in her eyes, she looked back over her shoulder to her mother.

"Yeah," she answered. "Someday when I ask you what it feels like to kill… don't lie to me. Don't tell me you don't feel a thing."

Her voice wavered at the last few words, at the memory of what she had done; of what her mother, and the Phoenix, had made her do; how she ended up this way. She turned away and lowered her eyes. She had to get out of here before she started crying, before her mother reminded her of how weak she was. Striding back across the room she shimmered away from her mother's sight.


	37. Chapter 37

**2003 **_cont._

Creeping around to the front of the manor, Bianca crouched down behind the bushes, keeping a watchful eye over the occupants of the old Victorian house. She lifted a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes briefly as she rubbed her fingers soothingly across the skin. Her head ached terribly from withholding pain-filled tears. She had no time to cry or feel sorry for herself; she needed to get to Chris. Peering over the edge of the window she saw they were all gathered around him, fussing over him. It was an easy opportunity for her to get back inside.

She shimmered up to the attic, grabbing a few candles and placing them on the floor where she had seen Wyatt trying to cast a spell last Thanksgiving. He had told her that this place was the centre of the spiritual nexus. If this spell was going to work, surely it had to work here. Standing in the centre of the pentagram she had constructed she lifted the spell in her hand, sighing as she looked over the edge to the door.

"I call on thee to give me time, to provide me with the peace of mind. On death's door do I wait, rid these feelings rid this hate. I call on the calm of the seas, these witches three give them ease." Grimacing, she conjured a blade into her hand, pricking her finger with the tip. "So frees the blood from my body, so frees their desires."

Shaking her hand, the liquid red drops that bubbled on the surface spilled onto the floor. She waited a minute, listening astutely through the silence for movement from the witches. Hearing the clunky sounds of a door opening and hitting the wall on the floor below, Bianca made a desperate dash to clear up the mess she had made. She couldn't leave evidence just lying around, it would look too obvious. With no appearance by anyone in the attic, Bianca opened the door and crept down the stairs, peeking out. She saw Piper exiting one of the rooms, dressed in a low cut sleeveless red top and long black pants. She appeared completely preoccupied as she made her way back downstairs.

"Good," Bianca said quietly, breathing a sigh of relief. "It worked."

With more confidence she stepped out into the hallway. She stopped by the room Piper had left, glimpsing through the slit of the slightly ajar door. Inside she saw a baby sleeping soundly. She looked the slumbering figure over considerately. It had to be Wyatt, but the still form hardly looked threatening at all. Maybe they had been wrong about this all along.

"Okay, Piper, but you can't go anywhere," Leo hissed. "What about Chris?"

Bianca looked down on the pair from the top of the stairway as Leo raced out to stop Piper. He'd left Chris alone. She couldn't see anyone else from where she was, nor hear anyone.

"Wish me luck!" Piper declared without a second thought, passing him by.

Bianca grinned. She'd enacted the spell with a great measure of success. She'd been nothing short of brilliant with her plan. Now she only had one person to take care of – Leo. She knew Chris wouldn't mind if she hurt him a little. Besides, he was far too distracted now to pick up on her presence.

She shimmered down into the living room, lifting her balled hands and leaning back on her right foot. The moment she heard him enter she transferred her weight onto the left, kicking the right leg forward and making impact with the heel of her boot against his face. Leo spun, his body colliding into the window seat of the bay window. Bianca turned, resuming her normal stance in the hallway as she recovered. Flicking her hair back over her shoulder, she pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek cockily, admiring her own skill. She was far better than anyone had given her credit for. Smiling with satisfaction she stepped back into the room, seating herself on the edge of the couch. Chris looked like he was sleeping, but with the rate his chest was rising and falling she knew he was in fact dying. She pressed her hand to the back cushion of the couch, leaning over him and placing her hand on his chest.

"Come on," she said, speaking to him as if he were awake and coherent. "We're going home."

She shimmered them both out, back to her mother's place. She wasn't even sure why she headed there. She knew she needed to be away from the manor. She was banking on her mother being absent again. When she arrived with Chris, she discovered she was right. Some vague distant memory told her in these days they hadn't returned home so quickly after the Charmed Ones attacked.

She shifted onto the coffee table, looking down at Chris. His skin was getting paler, beads of sweat perforating his skin. She brushed his hair aside, her hand coming to rest against his face. He was so warm. Pulling back, she moved herself into a better position, placing her right hand down onto and then slowly into his chest. He jerked unpleasantly.

"Shh," she cooed quietly. "Just let me finish what I started. You'll feel better soon, I promise."

Chris convulsed, coughing low in his chest and the back of his throat. She knew the magic was pooling inside him, choking him as if he was being forced to swallow his own blood. The white-blue glow surrounded her wrist at the opening where her hand was buried in his chest.

"That's it. Easy does it," she encouraged. Chris swallowed. She felt him stilling and carefully withdrew her hand. The light closed in her absence and she knew the wound would be fixed. She didn't have to undo his shirt to see that. His eyes opened as he drew in a chilling breath. "Slow breaths."

Chris looked towards her, his eyes full of loathing. "What'd you do to me?"

"I just saved your life," she retorted.

"By taking away my powers?"

_You ungrateful bastard_, she thought.

Angrily she pushed herself up, pausing before she left the table and turning back as she remembered to collect the chalk. She passed it into her right hand, stalking towards the wall and grabbing the askew painting, tossing it to the ground. The glass in its interior shattered as it made impact with the throw cushions on the floor. Chris sat up slowly, watching what she was doing. Lifting the chalk as high as she could, she began to again draw the triquetra onto the grey wall.

"How are you gonna bring me back, anyway?" Chris questioned. "That spell's a one-way door. It only goes backwards in time."

"He created a new spell because of you," Bianca informed him, keeping her eyes studiously on what she was doing. "One that works both ways."

"I'm touched," Chris said with a hint of sarcasm. He'd never known Wyatt to ever give time to even look at a spell let alone writing one himself – often he relied more on his powers than any other form of magic. He figured he must be a desperate man if he was going so far out of his comfort zone as to constitute a spell and convert Bianca.

"You should be. He's gone to a lot of trouble to get you back," Bianca said, looking back over her shoulder at him.

"Yeah. I see that," Chris said, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

Her hand pressed against the wall, she spun back furiously. What was he trying to accuse her of? Being unfaithful to him? That she was the one spouting the lies? She pushed herself away from the wall, thinking of how hypocritical he was.

"You know you don't have to believe me, Chris," she said. "But this really is for the best."

"Oh, really?" he asked, the question dripping of cynicism. "How's that?"

"Because this is your only chance to live. If I fail, he'll just keep sending more assassins back, and all they'll have to bring home is a body," she said, trying to make him see the seriousness of the situation, that he had no choice in this – not where the Phoenix were concerned. She didn't want to have to spell it out for him.

"Doesn't matter," Chris said, reaching into his pocket. "There's nothing left in the future anymore anyway."

With a simple flick of his fingers he tossed the object in his hand onto the coffee table. Bianca stared at it as it settled. It was the ring – her ring – the symbol of all their love and hope and he'd thrown it away. He didn't want her anymore. He didn't want any of it anymore. It meant nothing to him. She thought she'd be able to handle this, after what she'd seen she was sure she wouldn't let him get to her again. But that simple action, those few damning words, hurt her more than she ever thought possible. She lifted her gaze to look at him. There was that same cocky, arrogant expression on his face as he settled back on the couch.

_If that's the way you want it_, she thought.

He was testing her, she knew it. Her hardened expression slipped into a glare as she moved away from him again and sauntered back towards the wall. She could feel his eyes burning into her as she finished one arc of the pentagram.

"Will you stop staring at me, otherwise you can finish this yourself," she said.

"I already told you I'm not going anywhere," Chris remarked.

"Fine," Bianca said nonchalantly as she started on the other side. "You stay here. I'll go back, Wyatt can kill me then he can send someone else back to kill you."

She heard movement behind her as Chris pushed himself up off the couch. She didn't turn to look. If he wasn't interested in her, if he didn't care, then she was just going to show the same indifference towards him. Joining the last points together, she turned and saw Chris standing right behind her, his arms folded and his eyes scouring the outline of the drawing, eventually drifting back towards her.

"You really expect me to jump into this thing like before?" he asked.

"Not without a fight, no," she answered, placing her hands on her hips and straightening her spine.

Chris scoffed at the answer, unfolding his arms as he turned away from her. Bianca watched him walk back towards the couch, trying to work out what he was thinking.

"How can you be so cold?" Chris asked, turning back on her. She lifted her chin defiantly, knowing she had every right to hate him. "How can you just stand there and pretend like we never meant anything to each other?"

"I don't have a choice," she insisted.

"Bianca… please don't do this," Chris begged softly, stepping back towards her. She could see the change in his eyes, she could see the Chris she knew – the one that had convinced her what she was doing was wrong, the one who had somehow managed to melt her heart. She averted her eyes. "Don't give up on everything that we fought for."

Her heart sped up, her breathing becoming just slightly more erratic. She didn't know what to say to him. She'd seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. He did care. He wasn't just playing. She tried to think back on everything she had seen before she came here but it was hard to get past the image he was portraying now. None of it made sense, and she wasn't about to stand around here now trying to work it out. She knew she had to keep to the plan – take him back to Wyatt and then they'd start over. She lifted her gaze to meet his.

"I'm not. I'm just hoping we can find another way," she confessed. Chris rolled his eyes away, shrugging unnervingly. She looked away, pushing out a breath as she tried to push away the thought that he didn't believe her. She shifted her stance, the heels of her boots playing noisily on the wooden floors as she looked back to him. "Ready?"

His expression was stone cold. He didn't seem to be looking so much at her as looking through her, his eyes locked on the triquetra on the wall. Receiving no answer, Bianca turned towards the wall, Chris following in the motion. Orbs sounded behind them as three more figures appeared in the room.

"Hey! Future girl." Piper called.

Bianca turned back quickly, Chris also turning to look as Piper hurtled a potion filled vial towards her. Instantly Bianca conjured an athame into her hand, hurling it quickly towards the vial. She took no time to watch it spin end over end, shimmering out as the blade sliced through the glass, splintering it into several fragments. Piper lifted her hand, freezing the dagger in place as it spun sideways. Bianca reappeared next to her, swiping it out of the air and gripping the handle tightly as she thrust the blade against Piper's throat. Piper jumped in surprise.

"You were saying?" Bianca questioned.

"Wow. She is good," Phoebe remarked, glimpsing towards Piper.

"Uh uh," Bianca warned as she saw Paige take a step towards them. "I can kill her in half the time it takes you to even think about it."

"Yeah, well, we still have enough potion to vanquish you," Paige threatened.

"Maybe. But then you really will have to hope the Power of Two will do," Bianca said. She broke the stare she cautiously held Piper in to glance at the redhead. "Won't you, Paige?"

Paige raised her eyebrows inquiringly but said nothing. Feeling smug, Bianca thought she'd press the issue further. She wondered how it was that these witches managed to evade being destroyed at every turn. She was finding it far too easy to confront and beat them at every opportunity. Albeit Piper had blown her up the previous night, she now had the witch at her mercy.

"Oh, you'd be surprised what's in the history books. Now put the vials down… slowly," she commanded.

She hadn't felt this good since the days she was running around with Wyatt before Chris had made an appearance, telling people what to do, ordering Wyatt's troops around. It made her feel powerful. It made her feel as if she were the one in charge for a change – giving the orders instead of taking them. The sound of glass cluttering on the ground signified that they were doing as told.

"Bianca, don't. Let her go, and I promise I'll go with you," Chris intervened.

"Chris, what are you doing?" Paige queried urgently.

"If you kill her, there won't be a future for either one of us to go back to, and you know it," Chris said.

"What are you talking about?" Phoebe enquired.

Bianca didn't dare take her eyes off Piper, despite Chris' warnings from behind her. She hated how much Phoebe sounded like her mother at that moment. She also hated the fact that Chris was right – if she loved him, if she wanted him still around, she would be threatening his life and their very future by killing off his mother before he had a chance to be born.

"You'll see if you live long enough," Bianca said, glimpsing over to Phoebe before turning and making her way back to Chris.

"Piper, freeze them," Paige urged.

Piper lifted her hands and flicked them forward. Bianca turned to look back at them. Piper lifted her hand to her head, scratching it in confusion.

"Ah ah aah, okay I get why she didn't freeze, but why didn't he freeze?" she questioned aloud.

"Un-unless he's… he's a…." Phoebe stammered.

Chris lowered his head listening to the perplexity of his relatives behind him. Slowly he turned back, his expression making it look like they should have known and were stupid not to have figured it out already. Bianca smirked, relieved now to see that he hadn't entirely given the plan away – they didn't know who he was. He had done what she'd said after all.

"I'm a witch, too?" Chris offered. They reacted with a mix of shock and surprise, Piper only slightly wary now. "That's right. Part witch, part whitelighter. Just like you, Paige."

"You lied to us?" Paige shouted, offended.

"I had to. It was the only way I could get you to trust me," Chris explained.

"Trust you?" Phoebe retorted with the same amount of anger.

"Never mind," Chris said quickly. "It doesn't matter anyway."

"So that's it? You're just gonna leave?" Piper queried.

"I don't have a choice. She's stripped my powers," Chris said. Piper looked away, disappointed to have lost the battle. "Looks like Leo's gonna have to fix that floorboard without me."

Piper glanced back to Chris, narrowing her eyes warily. Bianca found it amusing that she would consider such a message threatening. It obviously meant something to all of them the way the two sisters looked at Piper. Bianca looked back to Chris, pleased to find him being so compliant now.

"Let's go," Chris said.

Passing her hand through the air, brushing past Chris's head and her own both towards her and away, she summoned the window to the vortex, applying her conjuration powers in the process to open the doorway. Turning towards the rippling sign, she began to walk forward, Chris matching her stride. Feeling Chris' fingers wrap around her own, she quickly got rid of the athame and took his hand. She barely noticed him glancing quickly over his shoulder as they walked into the light, letting time envelop them and transport them back to where they belonged.


	38. Chapter 38

**2027**

She heard the sweeping sound of the portal move around them and behind them. Hastily she pulled her hand from Chris'. She wasn't about to prove Wyatt right with his assumption on her feelings for Chris and how they blinded her from doing her job. They emerged from the portal together, Bianca just a step ahead of Chris. They both slowed their pace as they spotted the slew of guards in the darkened attic. While Chris eyed them disapprovingly, Bianca glanced around the room with concern. This wasn't how she'd left things, Wyatt had been here alone. Now he had backup, and she feared even more he had some plan that was going to involve violence. They all walked forward, forming a barrier in front of them, a solid wall of grey suits, folded arms and discerning stares. Her gaze passed over them. She recognised one or two as Phoenix.

"Welcome home, Chris," Wyatt said invitingly.

The guards stepped aside, Chris staring disparagingly ahead at the darkened form that was his older brother standing on the opposite side of the room. Bianca lifted her head defiantly, trying to appear confidant. But finding herself subconsciously half-shielding herself behind Chris' body she knew that was not the case. Wyatt walked forward slowly, stepping into the light, each heavy footfall resounding in the deep silence.

"Hello, Wyatt," Chris returned.

Wyatt narrowed his eyes and lowered his head slightly. Bianca could see a deep hatred radiating through those eyes, a look she did not quite understand. Yes they'd had their misgivings but she thought Wyatt may have given Chris a little leeway as he had her, whilst still being just about it. With a faster pace he approached them, his hands clasped behind his back, the floorboard squeaking under his weight. He stopped before Chris, meeting his eyes with the same grim determination that was reflected back at him. Switching his gaze to Bianca, she tossed her head upwards, a silent understanding passing between them that she had done what was asked.

"They're no threat to me," Wyatt said.

The demons bowed, disappearing in small sections as if the one split second between their absence would be enough time for Chris or Bianca to suddenly attack and become threatening. They were cautious.

"Et tu, Chris?" Wyatt recited with his own personalised spin; making it obvious to his younger brother he did not appreciate his treachery. He turned away from the pair, steadily making his way to the dais, disappointment in his voice. "Of all the people to betray me."

"I didn't go back to betray you, Wyatt. I went back to save you," Chris revealed.

Bianca held her breath as she watched Wyatt, waiting to see if he'd notice the flaws between Chris' story and hers. She had not told him the whole truth. She had tried to cover as best she could. Now Chris was going to tell him exactly what they had been trying to do. Wyatt turned back with surprise at the revelation.

"Save me? Ha," he chuckled. "From what?"

"From whatever evil it was that turned you," Chris said.

Wyatt turned his head away, wetting his lips as he thought about the naivety of his younger brother. He didn't understand. How completely wrong he was. But now Wyatt had the information he needed as to why his brother consistently defied him. He now knew what he was swaying Bianca away with. He looked back to Chris knowing his brother needed to reach the same kind of understanding he did.

"That's always been your problem, Chris. Stuck in the old good-versus-evil morass," he said piteously, placing his hand on the book. Chris rolled his eyes away, shifting his stance. "I'm so past that. It's all about power. It's as simple as that."

"And whoever has the most power wins. Is that it?" Chris queried.

"That's it," Wyatt said flatly. Chris scoffed at the answer, shaking his head. "That's why I keep this museum intact. To remind everyone the power from which I was born and that which I possess."

Chris looked around at the attic for the first time, as if seeing the room with fresh eyes, witnessing everything that Wyatt had done to it. He stepped forward vengefully. Bianca looked at him anxiously, folding her arms as tried to psych herself into backing him up. Wyatt was not someone you should oppose.

"Too bad the rest of the city isn't faring as well as your little shrine here," Chris said.

Drawing his hands behind his back, Wyatt stepped away from the dais curiously, studying his brother's recalcitrance.

"You know, if anyone else tried what you tried, I'd kill them on the spot. But you…" Wyatt drifted off. He saw Chris swallow and the slightest bit of fear flicker into his eyes. His gaze shifted over to the side, to Bianca. Chris followed his line of sight, looking back to her. She didn't move. She almost feared if she did they would both turn on her like reticent prey ready for the taking. If she didn't move, didn't speak, then maybe they'd sort this out between themselves. "I've forgiven Bianca. I can forgive you, too, if you promise never to cross me again."

"I think you know me better than that," Chris said shrewdly.

"I thought you said you could talk some sense into him," Wyatt snapped.

The comment pushed her to action. She unfolded her arms and stormed forward, irate that he would assume she had done nothing, that she had not risked her life and everything else by bringing him back. Just because only a little time had passed here did not mean that she had not put every effort into acquiring Chris from the past in the condition he had wanted him. She had not had an opportunity to 'talk' to Chris, and if she tried she knew he would very well have taken off as he had done to her in the park. With or without his powers, Chris was crafty enough to be evasive in signs of trouble. Before she had a chance to speak and explain anything to Wyatt, Chris jumped to her defence. She stopped by his side.

"Leave her out of this," Chris asserted.

Wyatt lifted his hand, curling his fingers. It took Bianca a moment to realise what was happening. Chris started gurgling as his throat began to close up internally. He lifted his hands to his neck, trying to stop the invisible stranglehold, his knees growing weaker as he struggled for breath. Bianca gasped, looking to Wyatt with surprise. It was when she saw the resolve in his eyes, the stone cold expression, that she knew he had intended to do it. Her eyes darkened as Chris collapsed to his knees beside her, lowering slowly as Wyatt lowered his clenched hand, his hands firmly clasping his neck as Wyatt telekinetically choked him. She shifted, knowing she had to do something but not knowing what. She had to stop him from hurting Chris.

"Pardon me?" Wyatt asked, as if Chris had offended him.

Bianca's anger grew as Chris struggled to breathe next to her. She always thought that she'd had a special part to play in Wyatt's plans, but now he was acting as if he was in control of her – that she was nothing but one of his lackeys to do his bidding. He had always been considerate when it came to her. Now there seemed no defying him, he believed he was in control of everyone. Just to prove it was physically possible, Wyatt opened his hand and swept it to the side, slicing through the air. Chris went sprawling across the ground behind her, smashing headfirst into a cabinet. She looked back quickly as she heard glass shatter, wood and paper cascading down onto her fiancé… if she could still call him that.

"Chris!" she cried.

She saw Chris pushing himself back up from the ground, flicking his hand towards a piece of broken wood. It was a programmed response. It didn't move. She saw the sudden realisation dawn on his face as it did on hers that she had left him defenceless. Wyatt swept his body in the other direction, toying with him. She looked back to Wyatt, glaring at him.

"Stop it!" she demanded.

"Why?" he questioned.

"You're not being fair. He doesn't have an equal advantage, I took his powers."

"Then you've done your job."

Wyatt turned to face Chris. He was starting to get to his feet again. Wyatt lifted his hand, casting his fingers forward in the air like he was throwing a ball. Chris followed suit, telekinetically lifted off the ground and thrown against the table by the window. It snapped in half as his weight fell on top of it, the contents on the surface disintegrating and rebounding onto the floor. Chris rolled onto his side as the table completely splintered underneath him, crying out in pain. Bianca circled around to Wyatt's side. He couldn't keep this up.

"You promised you wouldn't hurt him!" she reminded him.

"And you promised you'd turn him. Just like I turned you, or at least I thought I had," he returned coldly.

Angrily she rushed over to Chris, crouching down to help him sit up. He was clutching his side, looking somewhat hazy as he lifted his torso from the ground, vocalising his pain. She was so angry now she was becoming upset; saddened to see it brought to this Neanderthal brawl, knowing that it was her fault this was happening and that he was unable to defend himself. He must have thought they had planned this for him all along.

"Chris… please," she begged. A sole tear escaped her eye. She had to convince him this wasn't her intention. His gaze shifted momentarily from Wyatt to her. "I didn't bring you here to die."

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," he assured her. He looked up to Wyatt, saw him waiting with inquisitiveness. His eyes drifted down to his brother's foot, gently rocking on the loose floorboard. "I think."

Sitting back on her heels, her hands slipped from his shoulders as he rose and charged at Wyatt with a holler. Wyatt easily grabbed him and pushed him aside, deflecting his attack. He flipped into an end table, the boxes stacked behind it collapsing under his feet.

"Have you lost your mind?" Wyatt queried.

Chris glanced up from the smatter of books and papers underneath him. His body ached all over. Wyatt lifted his right hand, curling his fingers again. Chris' body was elevated off the ground, suspended high in the air as he again began to choke.

"I don't need you," Wyatt seethed, stating every word slowly.

Raising his left hand he conjured an energy ball, Chris' body slamming into the roof of the attic as he clutched at his neck for breath, flailing at the lack of contact with anything as he swung his arm back trying to grab the rafter. Unable to stand the torture any longer, her eyes filled with tears, Bianca pushed herself to her feet, racing towards Wyatt and thrusting her hand into his back before he had a chance to throw the energy ball. The light in his hand disintegrated in a puff of smoke, Wyatt roaring at the intrusion to his system. He felt it deep inside him, his head snapping back at the impact. His attention diverted from Chris, the shaggy-haired brunette fell to the floor. Bianca shifted her stance, trying to cement her feet to the floor. She knew how powerful Wyatt was. She could feel it. Mere seconds after entering his body she struggled to maintain her grasp, her hand shaking with the amount of energy racing up her arm.

"Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast," Bianca said. Chris looked up from the floor, his arm throbbing. The light was almost blinding as it widened across Wyatt's back. "I can't hold him for long."

Chris wasted no time pushing himself to his feet, scampering across the floor to the loose floorboard and throwing back the rug. He pried open the boards and pulled out the dusty piece of paper, fumbling to open it. Bianca was wheezing now, it was too much for her. There was too much power in Wyatt for her small body to contain. She bit her lip, trying to hold on, trying to ignore the strain this was putting on her system. She had to give Chris a few extra minutes.

"Power of witches rise, come to me from across the skies. Return my magic, give me back all that was taken from the attack!" he read aloud.

There was no doubt Chris was an excellent spell caster. He barely even finished the spell before his body glowed a translucent blue, the white overlay racing up and down his form as his powers were reinstated. He sighed, almost collapsing onto the ground with the effort of it all.

Bianca could hear Wyatt growling, hear his cries of pain as he tried to fight her, tried to fight the invasion. With an almighty bellow he pulled himself forward, kicking his leg out behind him to push her away. The mid-section of his black shoe made impact just under her chin, sending her into the air flying backwards with the force.

She felt herself gliding, the pain in her chin suddenly seizing her whole body as she landed; her head snapped back against the wood and the wind rushed out of her as she cried out at the feeling of something else penetrating her body.

"No!" Chris shouted, rising and sweeping his hand at Wyatt.

Wyatt flew back into the air, smashing against the light that hung by the attic wall. His feet made contact with the wall as the sparks of electricity shot from the wires before he crashed to the ground amidst the broken wood and shattered glass.

Lifting her head and lowering her eyes to see what the damage was to her body, Bianca became more anxious at the sight of the broken table leg jutting out from the midsection of her body. It was covered in blood – her blood. She could feel the warm, wet liquid drifting down the inside of her suit, could feel the stickiness pooling at her back. There was so much blood. She wasn't going to survive this.

"Bianca!" Chris exclaimed.

Terrified, she reached for him as he dropped by her side, one hand on her waist as the other reached for her face, but it was her hair he came to rest on in a comforting gesture. She locked onto his eyes in desperation, looking for the hope he had once given her, praying he had an answer for this like he had an answer for everything else. She kept telling herself not to cry – he would fix this. Chris could make things better like he always did. He'd found a way last time, hadn't he?

"No, no," he murmured.

"Haven't we been here before?" she reminded him, struggling to compose herself, to catch her breath.

"Maybe we will be again," he returned.

There was the hope she was looking for. She gave a weak smile, attempting to nod, but it wouldn't hold. She couldn't pretend that this was going to go away. She sniffled, closing her eyes against the tears.

"Maybe," she whispered.

Chris lowered his head to her chest, whimpering helplessly. She didn't want him to cry, it was going to make her cry. Just the very thought of him seeing her like this, of the fact they were about to permanently lose each other, made the tears flow from her eyes. But she knew they still had to do something to stop this; to stop him. In her heart she knew that if he changed things then this may not happen. She may be in a worse situation, but she was willing to risk that for their happiness. She fumbled for Chris' hand, prying the fingers from her body and pushing the ring into his hand. He lifted his head, looking at the object in his open palm.

"You can finish what we started," she sobbed, her breath shuddering as she calmed herself.

Chris swallowed, staring at the ring, knowing exactly what she meant. He closed his eyes, grim determination on his face, and nodded his head. It was that small movement that told her he understood what she wanted him to do, that if she was to die then this would be the last thing he could give her – a dying wish granted. Wyatt began to stir on the floor and Bianca quickly shifted her gaze towards him.

"Hurry," she urged. Chris glanced back to see his brother moving. "Take the spell so he can't send anyone else. Go!"

Chris pushed away from her, leaving her like a broken rag doll as he raced for the dais. Wyatt lifted himself to his knees, for the first time laying his eyes on Bianca after he'd kicked her. Seeing her impaled by the very table Chris had shattered, his anger towards his brother grew and with keen eyes he watched his younger brother run towards the book. Hurriedly Chris flipped through the Book of Shadows trying to find the spell he had used to go back the first time. Wyatt transferred his weight onto one arm, generating an energy ball in the other, blaming Chris entirely for what had happened to Bianca. If he hadn't been so defiant, if he hadn't made her care about him so much, if he had not gone completely insane and made him throw him across the room, if he hadn't broken the table – she would not be in the fragile state she was now.

"Hear these words, hear the rhyme. Heed the hope within my mind," Chris began to recite.

Now fully on his feet, Wyatt drew his arm back and thrust forward with as much force as he could generate, casting the ball towards Chris. Chris ducked to the side, the ball smashing into the back window of the attic, shattering against the glass in an array of white sparks. Recovering, Chris turned back to the book. Wyatt stared in surprise, unable to believe his brother had predicted and evaded the attack so easily. He couldn't believe he had missed.

"Send me back to where I'll find what I wish in place and time," Chris finished.

The triquetra flashed and rippled as the portal reopened. Wyatt glanced quickly towards the wall and moved to action as Chris looked and checked that the spell had worked. Chris grabbed the page into his hand, tearing the spell from the book. Wyatt realised his younger brother was about to get away again, he was going to abandon them all. Chris ran headfirst for the vortex, Wyatt quickly generating another energy ball and throwing it in his wake.

"No!" Wyatt shouted in frustration.

The portal closed as Chris dived through it, the energy ball sparking like clear fireworks against the chalk drawing, leaving a large circle burnt into the wooden wall. Huffing, Wyatt looked back to the book, remembering Chris had vandalised it slightly by taking the spell. He lowered his eyes. His dim-witted brother didn't seem to realise that the spell he had used to go back to the past was not the same spell he had sent Bianca back with. Thinking of the Phoenix, his gaze drifted over to her body.

Trying to focus on helping herself and ignoring the action around her, Bianca closed her eyes and remembered her father; how brave he had been before he died. She tried to summon that bravery in herself, finding irony in the fact that she was to die at the hands of her employer as he had for the very same reasons. The memory of her father reminded her of the fairytale he often read to her. She took comfort in knowing she was just like that princess – she'd merely pierced herself on something and now she would fall asleep. There was nothing to be afraid of. She wouldn't have to worry anymore. Chris would fight and overcome all those obstacles, and then he would come and wake her with a single kiss. From that moment on their world would be right.

She struggled to draw in another breath, opening her eyes as she heard footsteps approaching her. She saw Wyatt's tall frame come into view, surveying her vulnerable body. Her eyes misted over with tears, knowing she was completely at his mercy.

"Wyatt, no," she pleaded. "Please. Wyatt, don't."

He lifted his hands. She screamed as the wooden stake ripped back through her body, feeling the blood gush from the wound at her back like a broken dam. Tears spilled from her eyes as she hovered over the fractured table leg. She expected him to drop her again, to continue the torture. Instead he curled his hands towards himself, gliding her towards him. Letting out a mangled cry of strain at the action he dropped to his knees. She fell onto his lap. Her body shuddered as he adjusted his position to support her injured form.

"Why, Bianca?" he asked angrily. "Why make me hurt you? Do you think I enjoy it?"

She stared up at him, unable to answer, her entire energy infused in trying to breathe and to stay conscious. She could feel her blood pooling in her system, as the magic had inside Chris, swamping her air passages and coursing out through the wound. She coughed involuntarily, blood leaving the corner of her mouth and sliding down her cheek. He pulled her back towards him, cradling her in his arms and wiping at the residue.

"Bianca," he started.

Her eyes fluttered closed. She forced them to open again but the world looked dim and blurry. She couldn't fight anymore. It was easier to let go. Again her lids closed over those doe brown eyes, her whole body relaxing in his hold, her head falling back.

"Bianca. Bianca!" he called, shaking her body. She didn't respond. Her body remained limp in his arms. "No. No, I didn't kill you. No!"

Panicked, he fumbled to check each of her pulse points – turning her pale face towards him as he touched her neck, grabbing for her arm and finding no beat in the wrist either. He placed his hand to her chest. It was still. No beat, no breath. Tears stung his eyes as he ran through every option that coursed through his mind. He didn't want to lose her. That very thought stirred the feeling that he couldn't be without her. Sniffling and shifting her body, he moved his hands to cover the entry and exit of the wound. His hands beginning to glow a warm yellow, he bellowed at the pain it cause him to heal her, biting down as he tried to ignore the feeling of his back being ripped open more than it already was. It seemed like hours passed in those few quiet minutes. The healing went slower as the more he repaired her the more he infected himself. Suddenly her chest moved under his hand as she inhaled deeply, her eyes opening instantly as her body rose to the touch, gasping for air. She shook in his arms as she settled, staring at him fearfully. Pressing her hand against his body she pushed herself away. His hands fell uselessly to his sides as he bowed his head and tried to combat the pain he was in. Gritting his teeth together he lifted his gaze to look at her.

"Fix this," he ordered. He noticed her hesitation and knew she was afraid of what he'd do to her. "I healed you. You owe me. Fix it, Bianca."

She glanced towards the attic wall, to the chalk outline of the triquetra. She knew Chris must have successfully gone through. Looking back to Wyatt she saw he was wrestling with the pain, like a maimed animal seeking help from a sympathetic citizen. He dissolved into a collection of orbs as he tried to move himself elsewhere, but the stream did little more than float up and back down as his body reformed on the floor, devoid of the energy required to use that power. He collapsed facedown onto the floorboards. Bianca studied him, considering what she would do. She couldn't leave him to die. Not only would it make everything they were trying to do pointless, but if she did let him die and the others found out… Wyatt had always been lenient towards her. Without him around and harnessing the knowledge that she had killed both Michael and Wyatt, the Phoenix would turn on her with brutality. They did not take punishment lightly. Wyatt had endangered his own life to save hers. She couldn't make that benevolence unworthy.

Hurriedly she made her way back to him, placing her hand on his back and pushing into the wound. She tried to block out the sounds he made as she took the remainder of his powers. She didn't want to acknowledge that she was returning kindness with pain, but she knew that he would feel better once this was over.

"Breathe," she instructed, drawing her hand back. The light closed behind her. "Breathe slowly. Don't move too quickly."

Pushing himself up from the ground, he twisted his body to look at her. She looked at him solemnly, averting her gaze as she stood and walked away from him. She stopped mid-stride, clutching a hand to her chest and drawing in a deep breath. She was having a harder time containing Wyatt's powers than she had previously.

"Thank you," she heard Wyatt say from the floor. The expression of gratitude sounded odd to her ears, she was not used to being appreciated. She wondered if she really was dead. "What are you going to do with my powers? You can't keep them. I can see they're hurting you."

She glanced back at him, watching him climb to his feet, reflecting on how he'd always been able to read her. The only exception were the few times she had lied to him when he had expected her to be honest, because that's how she should have been if she valued their friendship. Guilt overtook her thoughts and she looked away again.

"Why don't you just give them back to me?" he prompted.

She turned to face him, shaking her head resolutely. She couldn't hand his powers back to him. She'd kept him alive. That was all she needed to do. If she gave him back his powers she would be giving him permission to go on behaving as he had been.

"Bianca," he said stepping towards her. She took a step back. "I'm not going to hurt you. If you're so threatened by me without my powers, what's the harm in giving them back to me? What do you have to be afraid of?"

"You killed me," she said.

"I saved you," he corrected.

"I can't give them back to you. You're only going to hurt more people."

"If you don't give them back, I can't protect anyone either. That includes you."

Wetting her lips she looked away, considering. Tentatively she moved towards him. Slowly she lifted her hands, looking up into his eyes.

"I'm only going to do this on one condition. Promise me you won't go after Chris. Promise me you'll leave him alone and don't go back on it. Let him help you."

Wyatt shook his head. "You're the only one who can help me now."

Her hands shaking, she cupped them and pressed the palms together. Light sparked between them and she pushed it towards him. Her head swam instantly and she struggled to maintain concentration.

_All that was gathered  
Absorbed in whole  
Leave my possession  
Into this soul_

The energy leaving her was twice as draining as when she had taken it. She wondered why she hadn't been this weak last time she gave him back his powers. The thought that she had died, only just been healed, and was putting far too much strain on her system with the interchange of powers did not occur to her.

She stumbled forward a step. Wyatt looked down at her with concern. The painful feeling of her capacity being overfilled began to fall away leaving her feeling hollow and empty. Her head spun again and she lost consciousness. Wyatt grabbed her as she fell, shifting her body in one arm until she was close to his chest. Bending his knees he swept the other arm under her legs, lifting her lithe figure and carrying her over to the settee that sat against the wall. Gently he lowered her onto the purple padding. He moved his hand to her neck, assuring himself she was okay as he checked and felt the throbbing of her pulse under her soft skin. His gaze drifting down to her midsection he saw that the blood was still there – visual evidence of how he had hurt her. He wiped it with his hand, finding it easily removed from the vinyl fabric. Worried he had not been able to heal her properly he pressed his thumb between the buckles on the front of her suit, brushing against her skin. He couldn't feel the wound. She seemed to be fine, just worn out. Relieved, he collapsed onto the sofa bed next to her, resting his head against the cushions. He was tired himself.


	39. Chapter 39

**2027 **_cont._

It took waking up to the shambles of the attic for Bianca to realise she wasn't dead, and for all that had seemed like a very bad nightmare to appear real. As had happened last time Wyatt's powers had been taken, it took him many weeks to recover and be able to use them to full capacity again. He called very little on Bianca, giving her time to properly recuperate from the events of that night. With the destruction of one of the neighbouring properties, Wyatt employed a new method of getting what he wanted. Few people were killed now, instead being held captive in the basement of the rebuilt property. Bianca watched, as the months passed, the construction of solid grey walls – tiny containment cells which would drive a person to insanity or injury. The house itself, once finished, was purposely unappealing to dissuade prying eyes. It was here coven leaders caved to Wyatt's demands. It was here witches and demons alike turned on one another for freedom. It was here that started the beginning of the end.

Bianca sat back, keeping a watchful eye on Merregrin. His impish behaviour was causing Wyatt concern, and she could see it in the contradictory behaviour of the hyperactive but aged purple creature. Guard duties were boring, but there was an advantage to handling less strenuous activity – it caused less pain.

"You don't have to sit there seventy-two hours straight. You can go home and sleep," Wyatt said kindly. She turned her head towards him, raising an eyebrow at his appearance. "What?"

"You cut your hair," she observed.

"Yes, and…?" he queried.

"I just never expected you to do that. I thought it was like Samson's mane – where your power comes from," she explained, tossing her head.

He smiled, knowing she was joking, and sat down beside her with clasped hands, leaning forward as he looked at her.

"I believe the only people who had faith in that ideal are those from my great-grandmother's generation. It's not exactly relevant anymore."

"You're not afraid they'll find you too…"

"Good?" he suggested, chuckling lightly at the thought. "I think my name and status prevail over my image in any circumstance."

She smiled briefly, her attention turning back to Merregrin as he again tried to ram raid the door in an attempt to get out. She knew it would only take another twenty tries before she'd hear the crushing of bone and the bellow of pain. She'd already counted how many blows it had taken last time.

"I take it he's not being very compliant?" Wyatt asked as he heard the dull thud of a small body hitting a solid unmovable surface.

"This has been the most exciting thing to happen in the last hour," Bianca answered blandly.

"Maybe I should find you someone more entertaining to watch?" he suggested.

Bianca shifted her gaze back to him, raising an eyebrow inquiringly. "Like?"

She was almost sure she caught a hint of embarrassment on his face as he directed his gaze down to the ground and shuffled his feet. Finally he looked back up and gave a humoured smile.

"You're right. They all act the same. I can't offer you a better captive."

"They're hyper monkeys that don't know how to be quiet," she sighed. He chuckled. She glanced at him curiously.

"My mother used to say that," he explained.

"Sir, the Dianie witch is asking for you," one of the guards interrupted.

He lowered his eyes disparagingly. Bianca saw them harden with a steely glare before he looked back to her. She slightly nodded her head – an assurance that she didn't need him to keep her company anymore. Wyatt said nothing as he rose to his feet, turning and following the guard down the hall to the furthest cell block. Opening the door, he stepped inside and closed it behind him. He was not afraid to be in the room with the prisoners, he had an easy way to get himself out.

"You requested my presence?" he asked.

"I want to know when I'm getting out of here," the blonde returned stubbornly.

"You're not," Wyatt said flatly.

She levitated herself up from the ground, kicking her foot forward and trying to make impact with Wyatt's face. He grabbed her by the heel, twisting her leg until he felt the bone dislocate. The witch screamed, dropping to the ground and clutching her leg in pain.

"You're so cruel!" she cried. "I don't know why you were meant to be the special one. You abuse it all!"

"Becky," he began, shaking his head heartlessly as he stood over her. "You may be important to your coven in Iowa, but you hold no power here. You're playing in the devil's playground."

She began to fade out of sight and he knew she was using her invisibility. Quickly he snapped his hand closed into a fist. He heard her choking and spluttering and she began to appear again.

"How do you think you're going to evade me when you only have one leg to stand on?" Wyatt queried.

Tears began to stream down her face as she stared up at him. Her blonde hair which had been so coiffed and perfect upon her arrival now lay about her shoulders in a tangled mess.

"Someone help!" she screamed. "Let me go!"

Wyatt looked at her considerately. Walking back to the door, he opened it up, looking back at her and sweeping a hand towards the open entrance invitingly.

"Well then, go. If you can make it out of here on your own," he said.

Looking down at her twisted leg, the tears began to fall harder from Becky's eyes. She pushed against the dusty ground but found she could not even stand without a great measure of pain streaming up and down her leg. Sobbing, she dropped back down again onto the hard concrete floor. Wyatt watched her, making no attempt to move to help or stop her. Resolutely she began pulling her body towards the door, dragging her lower half by her arms, crying all the way. Wyatt waited until she stopped in the doorway before he did anything.

"I hate to see someone suffering so much," he said, shaking his head sadly.

Lifting his hand, he flicked his fingers towards her, watching her blow into pieces. Unconcernedly he dusted his hands and pulled the door closed behind him, exiting back into the hallway.

* * *

"Oh, you're going to lock me up now?" the young girl asked as two guards hauled her into one of the empty cells. "Where's the pillows? You know you should be more accommodating to your guests. Don't you guys get punished for mistreating prisoners?"

She watched as the door closed behind them. They hadn't paid any attention to what she was saying, but she wasn't really surprised at that. Folding her arms and legs, she seated herself on the floor.

"Ah, who am I kidding?" she mumbled.

Looking around at the grey walls she frowned. There wasn't very much light in here. There wasn't even any entertainment. She wondered how she was meant to pass the time until they decided to do to her whatever it was they did to prisoners for fun. She didn't have any useful information. She wondered why they'd even attempted to capture her, unless they thought she was a snitch. But just because she lived on the street didn't mean that she knew the ins and outs of everything.

"Hey! Who's in charge here?" she yelled at the door.

She waited a few minutes and was about to call again when she heard a lock click open on the other side. Slowly the door opened. Wyatt walked through, his gaze falling upon her in a reproachful manner. She looked up at his progressively thinning form, his clean shaven face and his lighter coloured clothes and laughed. Wyatt glared at her.

"You're the one running the show?" she questioned.

"I am," he answered austerely.

"You look like a choir boy on stilts."

"Well I can't say I approve of your image either," he returned.

"I don't care," she said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"What's your name?" he questioned.

"Amanda," she replied. "And I'm guessing you're the son of Brad Pitt, right?"

"No," Wyatt said, looking at her crossly. "I'm a Halliwell."

"Never heard of them," Amanda responded.

"You should have. The Charmed Ones were the most powerful force in the magical world for the past two decades. I am the offspring of one of the most powerful witches, and a whitelighter who became an Elder, no less. I'm the twice-blessed child."

Amanda looked to a vacant spot thoughtfully, replying curtly: "Still doesn't beat a super-baby."

Wyatt waved his hand back in the air, telekinetically backhanding her and sending her into one of the walls of the room.

"Ow!" she cried, rubbing her shoulder. "Don't blame me for your parents not being celebrities."

"You think that's why I did that?"

"No, I think that's why you have issues."

"Are you always this obstinate?"

"No, on occasion I can be crafty and wilful, and if I'm in the right mood even nice sometimes."

"This tête-à-tête is inane. I should just kill you now," Wyatt growled.

Amanda paused as if she were considering the idea. "Okay."

Giving her a scornful look, Wyatt began to raise his hand, contemplating exactly which method he should use to eliminate her.

"Sir!" one of the guards shouted urgently, heavy footfalls sounding down the corridor as he yanked the door open. "Sir, there's trouble upstairs!"

Glancing back quickly at his guards, Wyatt exhaled and glared at Amanda. She had been lucky this time. Racing out the door after the guards, he spied Bianca merely three doors away.

"Bianca, take care of her," he ordered.

Bianca watched as Wyatt and the group of guards passed, moving down to the door Wyatt had just exited from. Walking inside, she closed it behind her. Amanda looked up to her innocently.

"Where did Wyatt leave off?" Bianca asked heartlessly, feigning assurance. She had no idea what had just been happening between the two, but she wasn't about to give the young girl the upper hand in the situation.

"He was about to kill me," Amanda answered honestly.

"You only just got here," Bianca stated with confusion. She had seen the guards pass by not even half an hour earlier. Wyatt was not so hasty to kill someone in that short a period of time, especially these days, unless she had been testing him. Amanda shrugged.

"He was pissed about not being Brangelina's kid."

Bianca shook her head. "Wyatt's not interested in celebrity."

"Really? Because he sure looked like he wanted everyone to know who he was."

"He wants people to be aware of how they're affecting the greater population."

"I'm sure killing people is a great display of that," Amanda pointed out. Bianca cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. "So, are you meant to be the executioner? You know – the man in the hooded mask… not that you're wearing one… or that you're a man,"

"I don't plan on killing you without an order," Bianca informed her, placing her hands on her hips. Her sleeves sliding up, Amanda spied the mark on her wrist, her eyes lighting up.

"Oh, cool tatt! Where'd you get it?" she asked, racing over and grabbing hold of Bianca's arm. Her body stiffened and she blinked a few times, seeing something Bianca knew but could not currently see herself.

"It's a birthmark," Bianca said bluntly.

Amanda looked up to Bianca, her eyes softening. "It wasn't a happy place was it?"

Bianca yanked her wrist away, nodding her head upwards towards the corner. "I think you better sit back down and keep quiet."

Amanda did as told. Bianca turned away, wondering exactly how the girl had known about her past when she didn't even recognise the mark. Turning back, she eyed her suspiciously.

"Which coven do you belong to?" she questioned.

"None," Amanda replied, settling herself into a seated position, her arms around her raised knees. "At least that I know of."

"Well, where's your family?" Bianca pressed.

"Dead. Mostly from the earthquake last year. I got shipped off to relatives in Detroit but they weren't accustomed to having children around, so I ended up coming back here by myself."

"Why return here?"

"Thought I could join a gang or something," Amanda jested.

"A gang?" Bianca repeated with amusement.

"Not really. I'd rather avoid people," Amanda said honestly. She looked up to Bianca. "Do you know what it's like to be alone? To have no-one else you can depend on?"

Feeling unsettled, Bianca averted her eyes and shifted her shoulders. "It makes you grow up quickly."

"Yeah, and what better way to do it than in a city in ruins?"

Taking a deep breath, Bianca glimpsed back to Amanda. "It's not."

"Not all of it. Just the eastern quarter." Amanda leant back against the wall. "The best places to be by yourself are those in devastation. The few people that are there only care about themselves. It's easier to hide. But I'm sure you already knew that."

"Don't attempt to relate to me," Bianca warned.

"How can I? You're like… twice my age."

Huffily Bianca turned and walked back to the door, waving her hand to open it. She pressed her back against the cold steel as she closed it behind her. Relaxing as she heard the lock fasten, she directed her gaze towards the stairway and saw Wyatt descending it once again with a number of guards in tow.

"Is everything okay?" she asked him.

"Yes. It was one small nuisance quickly taken care of. Now what about the other one?" he asked, his gaze shifting to the doorway of the room Amanda was imprisoned in.

"You didn't tell me what you wanted me to do with her," Bianca said.

"I'm sure I did. Was I not speaking English?"

"Why do you want to kill her?" Bianca asked.

"Apart from the fact she's a spiteful brat?"

"You don't kill people because they get on your nerves."

Wyatt clenched and unclenched his hands. "She irritates me more than anyone else has before. There is something about her I just do not like."

"Give her a day. If you still can't get anything out of her, you'll have to resort to another method other than threats. I don't think she's an easy one to break."

"I don't see why I should keep her around."

"She knows something, Wyatt. I don't know how she does it but there's definitely something under all that impertinence. We need to find out more about her."

"Do you think she's dangerous?" Wyatt asked hesitantly.

"Honestly, I don't know. I'll stay here a little longer and keep watch if it makes you feel more secure. I know you have plenty of other things to worry about."

Wyatt nodded in agreement. "The trappings of fame. Everybody wants a piece of you."

Bianca watched curiously as he walked away, her gaze drifting back to Amanda's doorway as she wondered how right the girl had been. Surely the teenager didn't know Wyatt better than she did. But there was that ever-lingering comment that hung in her mind about her past. It was only as Bianca reviewed the moment that she realised it had been prompted by Amanda touching her birthmark. Perhaps there was more wisdom in her words than the Phoenix would like to have admitted.


	40. Chapter 40

**2027 **_cont._

"Taking a break?" Bianca asked as Wyatt appeared in the hallway. He nodded.

"How are things down here?"

"Quiet," Bianca returned, her arms folded as she leant against the wall opposite Amanda's door. "Do you want me to hel—"

"No," Wyatt interrupted. Sullenly her gaze dropped to the floor.

"You're making me feel as trapped as the prisoners down here," she stated.

"I do allow you to go home whenever you want to."

"That's not what I mean," she said, lifting her gaze to his. "Why won't you let me go out in the field anymore? Why can't I fight for you like the others?"

He averted his eyes, lifting his hand to his face and playing with his bottom lip. Watching him squeeze it between thumb & forefinger thoughtfully, she remembered the other times she had seen him do that. It was a subconscious tell of fear and uncertainty when he considered how to separate whatever he cared about from peril.

"It's too dangerous. I already hurt you once…"

"Wyatt," she said, pushing herself off the wall. Instead of looking at her, he moved his head away. She ducked back into his line of sight. "You know… I do forgive you. You're really trying."

Refusing to look at her, trying to hide both the guilt and the hope he felt from the statement she'd made that lay in his eyes, he turned his head towards the door and changed the topic of conversation. She knew he was avoiding the discussion. He barely even made mention of Chris anymore. It was as if his younger brother didn't exist, although she knew that wasn't the case. She still remembered him, and none of the events of the past had changed.

"Let's see what she's doing. I don't trust the quiet ones," Wyatt said, waving his hand by the door to release the lock.

"Wyatt," Bianca pressed. He lifted his head.

"Don't think by telling me that I will let you fight because you prefer to, or that it's going to stop me from killing her," he said coldly as he wrenched open the door.

She sighed. Wetting her lips, she followed him into the room. Amanda was curled up rather uncomfortably on the floor, facing the back wall. It seemed like she had been able to withstand the cold and hardness beneath her and fallen asleep. Standing just inside the doorway, Bianca watched Wyatt close in on her, crouching down and laying a hand upon her arm.

Amanda jumped, startled awake as images flooded her mind. She saw many people die by Wyatt's hand, but she also saw those he saved… or at least tried to. She saw how distraught he was at being unable to bring his mother back to life, felt the heartbreak he suffered as Bianca died in his arms. She saw him heal her and that image gave way to the dull grey of the room, the last two people in her vision both standing before her looking quite healthy. Baffled, she concentrated her sight on Wyatt.

"Are you trying to scare me to death?" she asked. "That would be new for you."

Wyatt drew away, standing next to Bianca as Amanda pushed herself up into a seated position.

"If I were trying to kill you, I think it would have to be slow and sufficiently torturous to equate for your belligerence," he said.

"Huh?" she asked, casting her gaze over to Bianca.

"I think he means to say you should be quiet before you put your life into jeopardy," Bianca explained.

"Yeah, kinda got that much with the whole threatening part – oh, was I meant to shut up now?"

Wyatt sighed, looking adamantly at Bianca. She did little more than take a step towards Amanda, reluctant to inflict injury upon the girl. Turning her attention back to Wyatt, she decided to press him a little further to procrastinate the duty.

"Do you have anything you need to ask her before I remove her tongue? She won't be able to answer you," Bianca said. Reactively, Amanda covered her mouth.

"Indeed I do," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two small folded pages, casting it on the floor in front of her. "What are these? They were found on you by my guards."

Cautiously glancing towards Bianca, Amanda crawled forward and un-crumpled the papers, smoothing out the sheets. Sitting back on her heels, she looked up to Wyatt.

"Honestly?" she asked. He nodded. "My drug of choice. They're spells. They keep my powers at bay for a few hours so I don't freak out like I did just then. I bet you didn't know visions can be blinding, literally. Hence why I try to keep away from people – it's less disturbing."

Wyatt looked down at the paper with scrutinising acidity. "I don't recognise the text."

"It's from the Book of Ramon. It's ancient. I just happened to stumble across it one day and found it useful."

"Where is the book now?"

"I don't know. It was too heavy to lug around, that's why I only took those pages."

"I want that book," Wyatt said forcefully, almost sounding like a spoilt child. Amanda wasn't swayed.

"Well I guess you better go find it then," she said.

"Bianca, stay here," he ordered, immediately orbing out.

Bianca shifted her gaze from the disappearing orbs to Amanda, not at all fazed by his impulsiveness. She was used to it by now.

"So… what's the deal between you two?" Amanda inquired.

"What deal?" Bianca responded, mystified and a little off-put by the interrogation.

"I saw him heal you."

"So?"

"He is a whitelighter, isn't he?"

"You saw that. What's your point?"

"Are… you his charge?" she probed.

"No."

"Mistress?"

"No!"

"Hmm," Amanda pondered. She held her hand out towards Bianca, palm facing the ceiling. "Touch it."

"What?"

"My hand. Touch it," she insisted. "You can hold a weapon in the other hand, I don't care."

Bianca moved her head slightly, looking at the young girl warily. "I think I'll take you up on that offer."

Shaking her right hand to the side she conjured a dagger, the fingers of her left hand gently pressing down onto Amanda's fingers. Scenes from Bianca's memory flashed through Amanda's mind. Delving through her past she saw the moment Wyatt and Bianca first met; when Bianca had discovered Chris' existence via a personalised note in the Book of Shadows; scenes from a Chinese New Year where Wyatt had made shapes with orbs in the sky and how a leaf falling from a piece of fruit had led to another fight between them and everybody else; her experiences with Chris and how he convinced her that she and Wyatt were doing more harm than good; how she had tried to hide her relationship with Chris from Wyatt and the care she'd showed him when he'd been injured, resulting in confusion of both mind and emotions over who she should have believed. Amanda saw Wyatt encouraging Bianca to destroy her past by killing Michael, and then the final battle between Wyatt and Chris where Bianca became impaled by the broken table, near-death and urging Chris to finish what they'd started.

"You always make him come second to everything else," Amanda observed, her hand falling away. "No wonder there's so much tension between you."

"There's no tension between us," Bianca lied, thinking only of what had happened before they'd walked through the door.

"Do you remember when you looked at the book? You were in his bedroom, he was half-naked – a nice touch might I add – and he got all gruffy when you read the personal letter written for him and Chris. It told you the strength of a whitelighter's healing power was love. You're really dense if you can't see it. He loves you."

"Yeah, he loves me to do things for him. A kidnap here, a stab there," Bianca said, turning away from Amanda and crossing the room in an avoidable manner.

"No, he _love_ loves you."

"He can't love – he's a monster," Bianca stated matter-of-factly as she looked back to Amanda.

"You don't believe that. You wouldn't defend him otherwise. You care about him too."

"No, just…" She shook her head. Turning her face away, she tried to collect her thoughts. "I have a fiancé. I am not going to deceive him like everyone else has me. He's the only one I care about."

"Really? Then why aren't you wearing your ring?"

"Because I gave it back to him for when he returns."

"Do you think he'll come back when you're dead?"

She swallowed hard, feeling all the more riled up. Angrily she turned and strode towards the door, quickly exiting the room. Storming down the hallway, she folded her arms and dropped down onto the seat that had become her latest residence. She knew Amanda was right. Chris had clearly stated to her in the past that there was nothing left for him in the future. She knew he had only said it to spite her, but now she wondered how much truth was in that comment. He had left before Wyatt healed her. He would have presumed her dead. Maybe that was why nothing had changed. Maybe he never planned on coming back. He'd left her with very little here – left her to deal with his brother alone. But she was sure she could handle it. She had before Chris had come along.

Now she remembered the page in the book that Amanda was talking about – when she had first asked Wyatt who Chris was, when she had thought Wyatt was lying to her and hiding things from her, when she was unable to trust anybody and yet she revealed her inner core to Wyatt when he'd told her to trust him if she could trust no-one else. Amanda's visions were not wrong, she had seen and read the text, but to her it proved nothing over the issue of whether he loved her.

* * *

"You would think an antique warehouse could be more fucking organised than this," Wyatt grumbled, lifting a priceless painting and casting it aside. He paid no heed to the canvas ripping, the oil painting tearing away from the frame as it crashed against the corner of another wooden crate.

Climbing on top of one of the boxes, Wyatt aimed his hands at the steel latch on the box before him and flicked his fingers. It sparked, busting open as he had planned and leaving the box free to be rummaged through. Again all he found was another useless vase or antique clock. The Book of Ramon was nowhere to be found.

Climbing back down he heard someone shimmer into the room. Pausing for a moment and listening keenly he found it was only one sole intruder and so chanced heading into the open area where the sound had come from.

"Didn't I tell you to stay?" Wyatt asked irritably upon seeing Bianca in the centre of the room. She turned at the sound of his voice.

"I'm not a dog," she answered.

"No, you're my employee and when I give you an order you follow it!"

"I'm not going to be a fucking babysitter, Wyatt! You hired me to be an assassin. Let me be one!"

"Fine, slay away," Wyatt said, opening his arms. She looked around quickly. "There's nothing here, Bianca. It's not all about the killing."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

Wyatt turned away avoidably. "Go back, Bianca."

"No," she said resolutely. "Why are you so determined for me to stay out of your way?"

"I don't want you around… because it irritates me to have you so close by."

Bianca scoffed and looked at him offensively, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek. Storming around his stationary figure, she stood stubbornly before him, glaring.

"Then why didn't you just let me die?" she asked cynically.

He looked down into her heated gaze, irritated with her incessant questioning, annoyed that she would remind him of such a sensitive subject. He moved to grab her chin between thumb and forefinger, the touch instantly softening as he made contact, the nook of his finger curling and sliding underneath. His thumb fell away in a brushing motion, all the inclination to hurt her again gone in that brief second.

He drew his finger back slightly, lifting the base of her chin. Lowering his head he pressed his lips gently to hers. Light as air, he pulled away quickly and dropped his hand, swallowing as he turned away and headed for the door.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he mumbled apologetically.

Bianca watched him make his way outside, frozen to the very same spot, her mind trying to process what had just happened. So stunned was she that she felt she couldn't move until she tentatively raised her fingers to her lips, lightly touching the tips to them as she tried to comprehend the very reason they were tingling was because someone else's had just been there.

Her eyes drifting down to the floor in thought, she didn't see Wyatt re-emerge, her gaze shifting up to him as she heard his footsteps traipsing across the concrete floor towards her.

"Wyatt," she began, not sure what she should say to him. This was all far too confusing for her.

"Screw the consequences," he said, more reassuring himself than directing the thought at her.

Stepping forward, he pulled her towards him, feeling her body pressed against his as he pressed his lips harder to hers. She'd never felt so much passion, emotion and fervour poured into one kiss, and she'd never felt so much from it. Not even with… She ceased kissing him, pushing against his chest as she settled back onto her heels.

"Chris," she said in realisation. "I can't do this to him."

"Why not?"

"Do you know how many times Michael did this to me?"

"And you think my brother's a saint?" Wyatt asked pointedly. "He thinks you're dead, Bianca. And even when you were alive he couldn't stay loyal to you."

She shook her head briskly. "I can't."

"Do you know how frustrating it is for me to have to stand by and watch you throw your life away on my useless brother? Don't hold out for him. He's not coming back, and he's not worth it."

"How can you…" she started, but the words fell away, she couldn't disprove him, she couldn't fight him after what had just happened between them.

"Don't deny yourself, Bianca. I don't care if you just walk away from all of this and never come back, but please, don't drag this out anymore. Tell me you didn't feel anything. Tell me it's all in my head."

"I can't tell you anything. I don't know what I'm feeling."

"I can't keep doing this, Bianca. What do you want?" he demanded.

"I want to be happy!" she shouted at him. Quietening down a little she added: "I just wanted to feel loved."

"Have you always been this blind? Everything I did for you was out of love. I know I did some stupid things, but I've loved you all along. Even when I thought I'd lost you I kept trying. I could never give up on you. But I just need to hear you say it."

"No," she responded, shaking her head. "It's not possible."

"Then forget I ever said anything. This never happened," he said. Moving to another box, he stood before it and lifted his hands. They were visibly shaking. It took him multiple attempts using his powers just to open the wooden crate this time.

"It seems like everyone knew except me," she said abruptly.

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Because Amanda knew," she replied. Wyatt froze. "She has visions that reveal everything, Wyatt. You'd do better to keep her than kill her."

"And what's to say she won't betray me. She's too unpredictable to keep alive."

"At one time you could have said the same thing about me," Bianca pointed out. Wyatt sighed.

"Okay," he agreed. "But she only stays until we find this book and she helps me with it. After that whatever she does is going to count towards whether she remains living or not."

Bianca nodded. "I'll go back and see if she knows any more than she's letting on."

Shimmering back to the house, Bianca reappeared before Amanda's doorway. Leaning back against the adjacent wall she folded her arms. Thinking back, she lifted her hand to her lips and brushed her fingers across them again. In a contemplative moment she began to wonder if she really did care about Wyatt as much as Amanda had told her she did.


	41. Chapter 41

**2027 **_cont._

Bianca ascended the stairs, finding Wyatt studiously working at the desk in the main room of the house neighbouring the manor. Through the window she could see yet another group heading into the old Victorian home for the routine museum tour. Surveying the rest of the room she saw there was only one other occupant – a raven haired Phoenix named Veronica who led one of Wyatt's teams. Wyatt flicked through the papers before him.

"We're missing something," he stated.

"I know," Veronica agreed. "I suggest we gather our resources and aim for the most prominent location."

Wyatt looked up, spying Bianca as she hovered in the doorway. "Bianca."

"Yes?" she responded quietly.

Huffily Veronica looked back at the fellow Phoenix, rolling her eyes away. She didn't like being interrupted, and she wasn't fond of the distraction Bianca afforded.

"What do you think?" Wyatt asked.

"It's not her place to say," Veronica intervened. "She hasn't taken part in any of this."

"I still would like her opinion," Wyatt admonished.

"So she can deceive you again?" Veronica queried. "I don't know why you place so much faith in her."

"He has every right to," Bianca snapped, walking further into the room and heading towards Veronica. "I was with him from the beginning. I've worked for him longer than you."

"That's only because you abandoned us. Traitor," Veronica spat.

"Ladies!" Wyatt yelled. "Stop this. Dissension won't help our cause."

Scathing, they both looked back to him as two more assassins shimmered into the room. Dressed entirely in black, Bianca knew they were merely team members.

"We found the book, sir," Jax informed him. "It's with the Pelonir. Stanford and I were able to get close enough to their location, but they will move shortly. Do we have permission to attack?"

"Jax, no," Veronica scolded. "You need more than two men to take a group of that size on, especially if you're going in half-cocked."

"Veronica," Wyatt chastised sharply. She looked back to him. "Let them try."

"Thank you, sir," Jax said, he and Stanford shimmering out.

Veronica approached the table, slapping her hands down on the other side, looking bitterly at Wyatt. "You have no idea what you're doing. Why are you sending my men out on suicide missions for some stupid book? This is what we should be focusing on."

"That book could provide us with the missing pieces of the puzzle required here. Now stand down before I obliterate you," Wyatt commanded. Begrudgingly she stepped back. "Considering the Phoenix are all about control and order I find none of you manageable. You're all consumed with your own ideals. Have a little patience."

Staidly he returned to flipping through the pages in front of him. Stopping, he lifted his head, bewilderment on his face as he sat back thoughtfully in his chair.

"Huh," he said as if he'd realised something, looking towards the side.

Bianca's gaze flickered quickly in the same direction but she saw no sign of danger. Whatever had crossed Wyatt's mind was entirely in his own thoughts.

"What are you thinking?" Bianca asked.

"Not thinking, per se. Remembering," he explained, looking back towards her. "Chris is dead."

Bianca straightened, shaking her head adamantly. "No. Don't do this, Wyatt."

"I'm not doing anything," he insisted. "I was there when he was stabbed… by an Elder. Dad couldn't fix him."

"No," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "You're lying."

Unable to defend himself without absolute knowledge, Wyatt stared at her silently. Bianca turned away, shimmering out of the house and over to the main Phoenix headquarters. She was not worried about being discovered there. Ever since she had killed Michael, Wyatt had owned the building and the occupants who now busied themselves all working for him.

She headed straight for the library, pushing the doors open and stepping inside. She had not returned here in all this time, and the sight of the tables and books brought back a flood of memories. She knew she could find out the truth here. Everything Halliwell she had discovered here. She easily located the book. It was just as she remembered, although a little more aged with dust. Some of the pages beneath its leather-bound red cover were creased. Sitting at the table she scoured the pages for Chris' name, flipping past each prominent event in the lives of the Charmed Ones. She tried to remember how long ago it was that she last saw Chris but it was all becoming hazy. She didn't know whether the same amount of time passed in the present as it did in the past. She stopped as she saw Chris' name on the same page as the hospital. Worriedly she read the text more in depth only to discover it was his birth. It wasn't her Chris, the one she had sent back, the older version. She flicked back a few pages, skimming the text more closely. There she found it, as Wyatt had described. Gideon, an Elder who at that time had run Magic School, had ended the life of the Charmed Ones' newest whitelighter. He had been stabbed with a magical athame, whilst watching over his older brother as a toddler who was subsequently kidnapped, and was unable to be healed.

Tears slipped from Bianca's eyes. She lifted her head, running a hand under her nose and sniffling as she tried to hold them back. She knew what this meant – it was over. They had failed. Now Chris was dead, very likely where she should have been, and the world was still devastated in its own bleak way. Any hope she'd had was immediately crushed under the weight of reality as she tried to surmise how she would now live in a world where she had lost everything. All she had left was Wyatt. Wyatt still wanted her. She could use him to make herself feel better. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, but she needed to be wanted, she needed something to cling to.

Wiping her eyes, she closed and replaced the book, heading into the bathroom to wash her face. Running wet hands back through her hair she looked at her reflection. She looked pale, but there were barely any other signs that she had been crying. She hadn't allowed herself to release enough tears to give that away. She thought again of going to Wyatt. She knew the ideas in her mind were wrong and stupid, but she felt so hollow now, so alone. He was an easy target; he would succumb much faster than anyone else she could try to pick up on the street. Determined to make herself feel better she returned to the house neighbouring the manor and went in search of Wyatt. It didn't take her long to discover he was no longer there.

Her queries led her to his apartment. It amused her to realise after everything he'd achieved and all he could have, he still chose to squander himself away here during the quiet hours, at the very same address she had showed up to five years ago. She found him seated in his favourite armchair playing with the ornately carved edges of an antique photo frame held tentatively in his hands. He looked reflective as his eyes scanned over the picture inside it. He looked like he needed the same sort of happiness she did.

Striding forward, she peeled off her jacket and tossed it over the back edge of the bar stool. The buttons clattered against its metallic surface causing him to look up and quickly put the picture aside as he noticed he was not alone.

"I thought you would have been on one of your vengeance missions by now," he said.

"No," she said. "I'm only looking for one thing."

Continuing to stride forward, she pushed him back in the chair and straddled his waist. He looked at her, confused, seeing her hesitate for a moment before she pressed her lips to his, her body falling against his, sliding against him, wanting him. He almost gave in.

Artfully he pushed her back, seeing desperation and sadness flicker in her eyes before she averted them, running her hands up along his arms. He shifted his gaze, cautiously watching them, ensuring she wasn't armed. It was possible. He'd known her long enough to understand what kind of trickery she was capable of. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and he knew they were going to remain empty.

"You need this like I do," she said, leaning back into him. Softly she kissed him again, progressing back towards his ear, speaking in sultry whispered tones. "Don't deny I can't give you a happy ending. Show me how much you want me. Make love to me."

Wyatt closed his eyes. "No."

Bianca stopped her amorous ministrations, breathing steadily. Her heart thundered in her chest. She wasn't even sure she had heard him correctly. She couldn't comprehend why he would turn her down. Slowly she sat back up, her eyes moving to meet his. She slid her hand from his shoulder, tracing a gentle line down his chest. She was feeling less confident now but she was convinced she could change his mind.

"I'm not falling for this, Bianca," he said. "I know seduction is one of your ploys to distract, kill or both."

"Wyatt, please," she begged. It was true she was trying to distract herself, but it was not her intention to do any of those things to him. Seeing he was unconvinced she dropped the act and stared at him resolutely. "I'm not moving."

"I have no qualms about moving you," he said. She dug her knees further into the cushion, preparing to fasten herself into position, hoping to entice him a little more in the process as she wriggled on his lap. Wyatt barely moved as he orbed her from his lap to the couch nearby. She had no chance of stopping him. He pushed himself up from the armchair, not giving her a chance to shimmer back. "I'm not giving you what you want. You're spoilt."

"I am not spoilt!" Bianca shouted.

Refusing to refute her claim, he walked away from her towards his bedroom. Picking up the cushion from the corner of the lounge, she threw it at him as he walked away. As he closed his bedroom door, effectively sectioning himself away from her, she flopped back down onto the couch, raising a hand to her head. She felt humiliated. She felt guilty for trying to play him like that. She knew it would be hard to face him again without thinking of what she'd done, or attempted to do.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Amanda asked Bianca, watching her cautiously. It wasn't everyday she had an assassin in her prison sharpening a blade against a stone. It gave her the jitters.

"Passing time," Bianca answered.

"You couldn't, like, do that outside? Away from likely-to-be-killed captives?" Amanda requested. "It's just a tad… disturbing to watch."

"Well don't watch then," Bianca answered simply.

"It's a little hard. These blank grey walls aren't exactly enthralling to look at." She shifted position, thinking of an idea. "Hey, I know. Why don't you get me a piece of chalk and I can draw on them? Tally up my days in here with a few marks. Or you could give me that knife and I'll just carve them, how's that?"

Bianca lifted her eyes, pausing in her task. "No."

"Spoil sport," Amanda complained. Something about the remark made Bianca look incredibly uncomfortable, and Amanda wasn't shy of noticing it. "Did you want to talk about something?"

"No," Bianca answered quickly.

"You know I could jump you and find out what your problem is."

"You jump me and this will end up embedded in your body," Bianca said, holding up the sharpened blade.

"Good point," Amanda observed.

The door opened and Wyatt strolled in carrying a small but heavy book in his hands. He glanced at Bianca in passing. She kept her eyes deflected from him. From their cold and distant body language, Amanda surmised something had happened between them but she couldn't determine what it was.

"I'm going to check on Rhett," Bianca said, quickly excusing herself and disappearing out the door.

Wyatt paused, listening for the door to close before continuing forward and stopping before Amanda. She looked up to him.

"You brought me a present?" she asked, seeing the book in his hand. "That was nice of you."

"I found the book," Wyatt explained, holding it out to her. "I want you to decipher the text. If you lie to me, don't think you won't be vanquished immediately."

"I don't know what you're looking for," Amanda said.

"Read it," Wyatt insisted.

Amanda reached for the book, holding the opposite edge as Wyatt pushed it forward into her hand. Suddenly the book seemed to round, and she saw her hand was firmly encompassing a basketball. Looking to the side she saw Wyatt asking her if she was tired of playing with it yet. Removing his shirt, he began to join her for a not-so-fair game which concluded with her kicking him to the ground. Although angered, he didn't hurt her. He instead told her he was going to visit someone else. And that someone else she knew was Bianca. A vision inside a vision she had seen it when she'd touched the ball.

"No," she gasped, drawing away. The book clattered to the floor as she turned from Wyatt and walked as far away from him as she could get inside the tiny room. Quickly she looked back to him. "What the fuck was that? I've never played basketball with you! What… are you planning on even taking me outside?"

Wyatt looked at her confusingly, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "I can't say the thought ever entered my mind."

Amanda looked at the book. It had fallen open on a page with an elliptical detailed picture. She knelt before it, looking at the curvature of the writing. _The Eye of Acrilya_. She knew nothing about it, but from what she could make out of the text it wasn't a good thing. Gingerly placing her hands back on the book she saw everything beneath her take on a brown hue, the eye growing before her. She saw three people in front of her – all of them she was now able to recognise from the visions she had seen from Bianca. Chris was crouched down, gently prodding the large eye. Bianca was wrapped in Wyatt's arms. They all looked somewhat disgusted and slightly fearful as they discussed the disappearance of the workers on the site. Amanda drew her hands away, looking up to Wyatt.

"What the hell did you do? You ruined my life!" she yelled. "I don't want to have to see these fucking things every time I touch this book."

Wyatt looked away irritably. "Amanda, I did warn you. Stop playing games."

"This isn't a fucking game," she said. Standing, she pushed him. Another flash ran through her mind – Wyatt and Bianca in their bedroom discussing his parents' anniversary. It didn't make sense, she knew his mother was dead, and it was causing her more than enough headaches having her vision interrupted not just on occasion but every time she touched something or someone. "Give me back the spells. I don't want my powers!"

Hearing the shouting from the room, Bianca quickly rushed back in. She saw Wyatt try to grab for the hysterical girl, saw Amanda quickly evading him. She looked as if Wyatt had been torturing her without really trying.

"What's going on?" Bianca asked.

"She's psychotic," Wyatt answered.

"He's fucked-up," Amanda replied. "In fact this whole thing is. You screwed with some evil eye and now we're all living in this shitty world. The two of you were in some joyous happy relationship and now look at you – you're killing people and fighting each other."

"We're not—" Bianca countered, looking towards Wyatt. Blinking, she quickly looked away. She didn't even know what they were now. She was still embarrassed about throwing herself at him, and they had decidedly avoided each other in the following days.

Amanda lifted her hands to her head. "Please. I need those spells."

Wyatt lifted a hand and swung it backwards. Telekinetically Amanda flew back and hit the wall, sinking to the ground unconsciously.

"Wyatt!" Bianca admonished.

"What do you want me to do, Bianca?" he shouted. "I don't know how strong her mind powers are. She could have attacked us. Or she's just plain crazy and in that regard I did her a favour putting her out of her misery. It's not as if I killed her."

"You could have given her those spells."

"How do I know she's telling the truth about that?" he questioned. "Besides, I don't know where they are."

"You were the last one with them!"

"How the fuck am I supposed to keep track of two pieces of paper amongst everything else? You expect too much from me, Bianca."

She kept quiet, looking at him solemnly. All her defences had come down speedily enough for the retaliation to hurt. Breathing heavily and clearly angered, Wyatt turned away from her and hastily swept the book up from the floor. Walking back towards the door he opened it and looked out into the hallway.

"Veronica! Take this back to the study," he ordered.

The raven-haired Phoenix hurried down the corridor, taking note of the urgency in his tone. She took the book from his hands, slipping her fingers between the cover and the page that had been open. Walking back with it, she glanced over her shoulder to ensure Wyatt had disappeared before she glanced at the page. She had heard of The Eye of Acrilya. She knew that it was secreted away somewhere, that its job was to ensure evil ruled the world. She smirked thinking it had done a good job on Wyatt already, he was clearly destructive and nobody could stand in his way, not even the Phoenix. But he had a weakness, and that weakness was Bianca. Obviously he was captivated under the same licentious spell as Michael had been. Her harlotry had a way of making powerful men fallible. She knew that wouldn't be the case if she were in charge. She knew Bianca would have no way of influencing her.

Pensively she laid the book on the table in the study, her mind beginning to formulate how exactly she could convince the others that Wyatt had led them astray. He may be powerful, but he would not be able to defeat them all, not as a united force. She closed the cover, knowing she would have to keep the book away from everyone else. No-one was to know The Eye of Acrilya really existed, that would ruin everything. She would have to convince Wyatt to keep it solely under wraps, while at the same time working to turn everybody against him. But first, she knew, she would have to do something about Bianca.


	42. Chapter 42

**2027 **_cont._

"I don't know how much we can trust her," Bianca said. "But I do think this is hurting her."

"I'm not stopping until we get something valuable out of her," Wyatt countered.

"Do you believe her?" Bianca inquired.

"In regards to what?"

"Us."

"No," Wyatt stated clearly, sitting heavily in the armchair. "You made it quite clear that you are and always will be in love with Chris, and that I am just someone you work for. That was a heinous error in judgement on her part. You've always chosen him over me."

"That's not entirely true," Bianca said. She stepped towards the couch, easily lowering herself down as she watched him. "It took a lot for him to convince me to believe what he was saying. In the end we were just trying to help you. But nothing changed, and now he's dead."

"Things did change, but I didn't want to tell you," Wyatt confessed.

"What things?" she queried.

Wyatt scratched his chin. "I think he got rid of some rather unsavoury characters while he was back there. A lot of demons disappeared off the radar. One you know rather well vanquished beneath my hands without any implementation from me… after I followed you."

"Why?" she asked heatedly. She didn't like to think that he had been stalking her, that he didn't trust her.

"Apart from the fact that I didn't trust that cretin, I needed to uncover a way to convince you to go back. I had no idea my brother was hiding such dirty little secrets from you. You didn't even question me when I told you I knew."

Bianca sat back. He was right, she hadn't. She had been so captivated by the kiss that the meaning behind all he had said easily fell away into the thick abyss of confusion.

She heard a tiny snapping and clicking sound pass through the silence. Glancing back to him she saw his head was bowed, watching as he idly opened and closed the catch on the metal band around his wrist.

"Why did you offer yourself up to me?" he asked quietly.

Bianca turned her head away, swallowing hard before indomitably looking back to him. "Why did you turn me down?"

"Bianca, please. Don't argue with me. Just answer the question."

"I didn't want to feel that pain anymore. I didn't know what to do. And I thought that's what you would have wanted."

He looked up to her, his soulful eyes filled with sadness. Amongst the depths a light flickered followed by an amused smile that played over his lips.

"Working with me for five years when I have not even asked for that once from you brought you to that conclusion?" he asked. Shrugging, she coyly looked away. Wyatt moved to sit next to her, placing a palm gently against her cheek and directing her face back towards him. "I'm not Michael."

Feeling ashamed, Bianca dropped her gaze. When she looked back up she could see he was still staring at her, kindness in his eyes. She raised her hand to cover his. Hastily he pulled it away. Closing her hand she lowered it to her shoulder. The curve of her hair fell across her eye.

"You're the only one that ever knew about that," she confessed.

"Should I feel honoured?" he queried.

"Not when you use it against me," she said bitterly. Wyatt stood, progressively moving himself away before the conversation erupted into another fight. Bianca's voice softened. "Though I thought it had some meaning."

"I was trying to help," Wyatt explained, glancing over his shoulder at her. "If there's one thing I've learned during the course of our time together it's that no matter how many outer demons you kill, the inner ones still remain."

Turning his head away he headed back into the hallway. Impulsively Bianca pushed herself off the couch and raced after him. Rounding him quickly, she stood in front of him. He stopped.

"What if it was meant to be us?" she pressed. "What if we missed that window?"

Wyatt looked down at her, saw the urgency in her eyes. She was looking to him for answers, for confirmation of the unknown. The times he had helped her, the times he had tried to impress her, all ran through his mind. Not once had she given him a passing thought in that regard, and now here she was practically begging for it to be true. Reaching down he took her hand into his, looking contemplatively down at the long slender fingers in his palm. She lowered her gaze, seeing the same as he did, almost unaware it had happened as she resolutely waited for an answer. Her heart fluttered with fear as she began to question her own motives. She was scared, afraid she was playing some kind of game with his feelings, unsure of herself. She didn't know if she was ready to dive headfirst into this. She didn't know if she was willing to be hurt again. In a gesture that reassured her, Wyatt tenderly ran his thumb over the back of her fingers.

"I don't trust things that are too easy," she said quietly.

"Sometimes it's hard to see clearly what's right in front of us," Wyatt said. It was the only answer he could offer. All he could do was open his heart.

Bianca looked up at him. He leant down towards her, his face stopping just short of hers. Gingerly she moved her head forward until their lips met. Although starting out soft and unsure, the kiss soon burnt with intensity. Bianca pulled Wyatt's hand behind her back, effectively drawing him closer, her fingers skimming back along his hand and up his arm to his shoulder as she let go. He flattened his palm against the small of her back and she snaked a hand around his neck, pulling him closer, yearning to taste more of his sweetness. It no longer became a kiss about replacing a moment, but one that lived in it.

It was only in this moment that Bianca realised how much she wanted him, that everything she had done for him was not just out of loyalty and compassion but love. The only reason she had been so torn with Chris was because she had trusted and cared about Wyatt too much to turn away. He had been her sole purpose for living. Even while she deluded herself with promises of a happy future, he was the one who had kept her going.

He knew he was taking an impulsive risk when he orbed them to his bedroom, but it would do them no good to stand in the hallway of a house where they were likely to be caught. He was somewhat concerned of what others would think of him favouring Bianca, but right now he didn't care. He had her. For once he had her. And he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip by.

Somehow he knew that everything he was doing was right. She put up no protest. He knew she was just as caught in the passion as he. He could hear it in her erratic breath as their lips separated; see it in her lust-filled gaze as she pulled away. It took her a moment to realise they'd changed surroundings but she said nothing as her gaze settled back on him. He waved his hand at the stereo and it clicked on to begin playing a slow, sensuous track. Amusement brightened her features. She would have thought Metallica or some other heavy sounding band would have blared from his stereo more than this style of music. It was something she thought only she listened to in the quiet hours.

"I feel like I'm dreaming," he said.

Bianca shook her head. Reaching back up to him, she pulled his head down towards her and kissed him again. Her hand slowly trailed down his back and simultaneously he lowered his hands from her waist to her behind. She pressed herself further against him, increasing the pressure of the kiss, her hands scrunching the hem of his shirt into her palm and lifting it upwards. He moved his hand back and took hold of hers, stopping her. She pulled away, worried that she'd misinterpreted the situation. Fastening his hands around the bottom of his shirt, Wyatt lifted it up and over his head, his gaze fixed upon her as he pulled his arms from the sleeves and cast it aside. Relaxing, Bianca's eyes surveyed his form, memorising every ridge and curve as her gaze turned down to her hands, giving her a clear visual as her fingers worked to undo his belt. She pushed against the leather hurriedly, but it kept slipping from her grasp, the buckle also serving to thwart her attempts at removing the obstruction. It fell open, hanging idly from the loops. Wyatt gave her no time to do anything further, gripping her waist and pulling her back towards him. He pressed his lips to her neck, breaking momentarily to remove her top before replacing them and following a self-made path down to her collarbone. She turned her face towards him and he lifted his head, his lips instinctively attaching to hers. This kiss was more fervent than the last, desire growing in both of them. His hands were like ice against her warm skin as they coursed up her back causing her to tremble in the wake of his touch. He stopped at her bra, his fingers seemingly having as much trouble with the clasp as she had the belt whilst concentrating on the kiss. Finally giving in to the task at hand he pulled away, grazing her shoulders with feather light kisses as he pushed down the straps. She brushed her hands against his body and pulled back slightly. With every inclination of getting to the bed he followed, unbuttoning and pushing down his jeans along the way.

The back of her legs came in contact with the bed and she stopped, watching him. He reached out and covered the back of her head, pulling himself towards her, their lips again drawn to each other in a magnetic fashion. She was barely aware of what the rest of her was doing, caught up in feelings and emotions. She steadied his hand at her hip, parting her lips just a little bit more, her tongue teasingly lapping against him until he deepened the kiss. She moaned and his hand coursed up her torso. Her knees grew weaker and she stretched her hand out behind her, feeling for the solidity of the mattress as she sank onto the bed. Her heart beat furiously as she looked up to him.

He stepped into her and she reached for the waistband of his boxers, lowering them as she placed enticing kisses against his abdomen and around his navel. Now he was the one to softly moan, his arousal growing as he anticipated everything she could do, feeling the warmth of her tongue against his skin. She broke away, sliding back across the bed as he stepped out of his boxers and climbed onto the mattress. Predatorily he stalked towards her and she watched him with wanton eyes. His hand brushed across her midriff, his fingers easily popping open the button on her pants. Teasingly he pulled the zipper down. She moved her hand to cover his and shifted it to her thigh, wriggling and lifting herself to disrobe the remainder of her attire. Wyatt took over once she reached her knees, tentatively taking the clothes from her grasp and pulling everything over and off her feet. She reached for his torso as he leant back towards her, his lips eagerly meeting hers in a frenzy of kisses as she lay back on the bed. She felt more than saw him move over her. Looking up to him she enticingly caught her bottom lip between her teeth as he pulled away, as if she was contemplating giving in to temptation.

He placed another kiss against her shoulder, then one over the pulse of her neck, and then progressed down to her chest. She shuddered in anticipation. He did more than just caress her body, he worshipped it with his hands and his lips. A pleasant sensation ricocheted through her body and she more than just wanted him now, she needed him. She lifted her hips towards him, desperate for gratification. He moved back up her body. Skin against skin she felt his warmth, felt his heart thundering to the same beat as hers. He held her gaze and she almost felt as if she were falling into the depths of those blue irises, as if her eyes were able to touch his soul. They reflected everything she felt – a completeness, a resolution. He kissed her lightly.

"Please," she begged him, murmuring into the kiss.

Taking her hand, he gently lifted it over her head. It rested languidly on the pillow as his hand drew away. She arched her body towards him. His attention was fixated on her birthmark. Tenderly he traced around the edges then made a line up and down the middle. Her skin tingled and she realised it had not done that before, she had never felt like he was making her feel now. No-one had ever appreciated every single part of her as Wyatt did. He seemed to savour every minute of it. But she could hold out no longer. Curling her hand she grabbed his fingers, pulling his hand into her palm and interlacing their fingers. Her grip on his hand tightened as he pushed into her. She elicited a soft moan, echoing his own, and he slid back out. He continued at a slow, taunting pace; friction building, pleasure heightening. They became lost in the sensation, lost in each other. Words of encouragement and guidance passed between them in gentle, needy tones. When she looked into his eyes she saw the world, saw that he would give anything for her.

Wyatt was not as domineering as Michael, nor was he as submissive as Chris. Somehow he fell neatly in the middle. She liked that control switched from one party to the other. She liked the way her body responded to every single touch. His breath was as erratic as hers. He seemed to take further enjoyment out of hearing her mewling beneath him and knowing he was the one causing it. He kissed her again – slow, deep and passionate. She lifted her legs, curling them around his body, pulling him closer. He increased his pace until they were both crying out their release.

Exhausted, he collapsed onto her, nuzzling into her neck. She kissed his shoulder, lifting her eyes above them when she saw everything was bathed in a blue hue. It took a moment for her heavy-lidded eyes to adjust and realise it was his shield. Intentionally or unintentionally he'd brought it up to surround them, to cocoon them in comfort, to protect them both, to contain them in their own little world – and that's what this was.

"Does that always happen?" Bianca asked curiously.

Wyatt lifted his head, looking mildly surprised as he surveyed the same thing she did. He knew it was possible to lose control of his powers. He however did not realise that the insanity Bianca brought to him which made him lose control of himself would bring about that result.

"No," he answered. He smiled wryly. "It had to be special. It had to be you."

She watched with lazy eyes as he moved his face back towards her. Resting his forehead on hers he leisurely brushed her lips with his own. Playfully she nipped his lip. He pulled away, wanting to tease her about being dangerous but smiling instead. They gazed into each others eyes for a few brief seconds before sharing another kiss, a softer one.

"Does this mean we're together now?" Bianca whispered.

"Oh god I hope so!" Wyatt said formidably, dropping his head dramatically down onto her shoulder. She laughed.

Brushing a hand down her side, he gently eased himself off her, the shield disappearing as he lay beside her. She turned her head to look at him. He didn't wander off as she feared he would. He appeared content, watching her with bright eyes. Reaching out he swept stray hairs from her face.

"You're so beautiful," he said.

"I wish that were true."

"It is," he stated. She smiled an appreciative smile, one that faded as she looked at him with a resonance of guilt.

"I'm sorry I made you wait."

"It was worth it."

Lifting herself a little, she leant towards him, placing a gentle kiss against his lips. She felt his arm encompass her, pulling her closer as he rolled onto his back. Snuggling closer to him, she lay her head on his chest, placing her hand nearby. The contact was reassuring as, skin to skin, she felt that same heat radiate up through her palm. For once she felt completely safe. For a moment she thought she'd never be hurt again.

* * *

Bianca entered Amanda's room with a tray in her hands. Approaching the girl, she laid it on the floor in front of her. Amanda glanced at the assortment of food on the plate.

"Is this a special occasion?" she asked. "Or did someone happen to win the lottery? You're usually not so generous with food."

Bianca smiled and shrugged. "He won something."

Amanda looked again at the plate, saw it was covered in peas and pumpkin topped off with baked potatoes and some delicious looking roast lamb. Her stomach growled involuntarily.

"Don't just look at it. Eat it," Bianca instructed. Amanda looked up to Bianca scrutinisingly.

"What did you do – poison it?"

"No," Bianca replied. Amanda looked at the plate contemplatively. "I promise you it's edible."

Deciding she was right, Amanda wasted no time digging into the meal. She hadn't eaten a decent one in a while, and she discovered this was just as tasty as it looked. In fact it was absolutely delicious.

"Did someone cast a spell on you?" Amanda asked as she chewed. "You seem awfully chipper."

"I gave you a meal and told you it was edible. How is that 'chipper'?"

"Your…"

Amanda swallowed and the door opened, leaving the rest of her sentence unsaid. She didn't have to ask anymore. She saw Bianca's expression immediately brighten at the sight of Wyatt and, although appearing stoic, there was a softness in his eyes when he looked towards the Phoenix.

"How's your meal?" Wyatt inquired.

"Great! As long as it's not my last."

"Think of it more as a small reward for what you've done for me," Wyatt said.

"Ah, so I get food for a certain number of points. How many do I have to get for freedom?"

"We're not finished," Wyatt said blatantly, unwilling to negotiate on letting her go. He looked to Bianca. "Can I see you for a moment? In private?"

Bianca nodded, following him back out into the hallway and closing the door behind her. Wyatt looked cautiously up the length of the hallway on both sides of them.

"What is it?" Bianca asked.

Wyatt put his hands on her arms, pressing her back against the wall next to Amanda's door, lowering his head and crushing his lips against hers. Realising he was stealing a moment to kiss her, Bianca wasted no time in reciprocating the gesture.

"I've been waiting all day to do that," he confessed. Smiling with adoration, Bianca leant forward and kissed him again.

Hearing footsteps echo on the staircase, Wyatt quickly pulled away from her. Veronica appeared at the base of the stairway. Bianca pushed herself away from the wall.

"Wyatt, they're waiting for you," Veronica said, inspecting the two of them. "They'll get testy if we don't leave soon."

Wyatt looked back to Bianca, his eyes roaming up and down her form decisively as if he were torn on whether to stay or go.

"Who are you going after?" Bianca inquired.

"Durmein," Veronica answered.

Ignoring her and continuing to question Wyatt, Bianca asked: "Can I come?"

Wyatt smirked. "No. Not this time."

How he wanted to kiss her goodbye, but with Veronica there he could not. He simply turned and walked away.

Veronica watched as he passed her and went up the stairs, directing her gaze back towards Bianca as she slipped into Amanda's room. She knew something was going on between them. If her suspicions were right… well she'd have to find out first.


	43. Chapter 43

**2027 **_cont._

Black. The kind of darkness that gives you serenity. The shadow that conceals the pain from view, that staves off the nightmares. The sole thing that doesn't provide joy, but at least gives you peace while you rest. There is comfort in darkness. There is comfort right here. There is something to cling to, like a child that clutches a blanket for security.

Bianca awoke to a clinking sound as something hit the barricades of the balcony outside her window. Dismissing it as nothing and not wanting to be disturbed from her slumber, she kept her eyes closed and snuggled further into Wyatt. She heard a low groan – the scrape of the wooden chair across the sandstone tiles. Instantly she opened her eyes. Lifting her torso, she glanced over her shoulder and saw a shadow flicker past the cream coloured curtain. Quickly she looked back to Wyatt. He was still fast asleep. Untangling her body from his, she pushed herself away. Leaning over the edge of the bed, she clutched the sheet to her chest with one hand as she swept the other across the floor and retrieved the three quarter length handkerchief top she had been wearing, pulling it hurriedly over her head before she climbed out of the bed. She was thankful it was just long enough to look like a very short dress because she didn't have much time to prepare herself otherwise.

Cautiously she slipped towards the window, pressing her back against the wall as she shifted the curtain just enough to see outside. Parts of the balcony still remained hidden from view, and the angle she could see looked to be empty of anything other than plants. She knew she'd have to go out to reveal the threat.

As quietly as possibly she unfastened the lock, and then in a blur of action she pushed the sliding door open and leapt outside, her hand manifesting an athame for defence. A lone black raven squawked at the surprise of her sudden appearance, flapping its wings and taking off from the back of the chair where it had been perched. Bianca pursed her lips, looking around warily. The balcony was empty. Although it was plausible, she was finding it difficult to believe a single bird could have made those noises and cast that lengthy shadow against her window. Dispersing of the athame, she stepped towards the balcony barrier, placing her hands on the metal railing and peering down over the edge. With a glance upwards she looked down again and pushed herself away, crestfallen to have discovered no-one there. She felt something twisted around her fingers. Lifting her hand up to shake it off she stopped when she saw what it was – a long strand of jet black hair.

* * *

There was a reason Veronica never tied her hair back. She had the misfortune of being born with the Phoenix birthmark emblazoned on the side of her neck. She was forced to leave her hair down to conceal her identity, but at the same time it caused her to break the assassin's rule of keeping your hair short or tightly secured. She had to be careful. But on the morning she had been spying on Wyatt and Bianca she was not. She was so eager to confirm her suspicions that all cautiousness had flown out the window when she'd discovered them in bed together, an array of clothes spread out across the floor. She'd left before being discovered lurking on the balcony, her mind instantly brewing with ideas on how to pit the two against one another. She knew if they were busy fighting one another they wouldn't notice what was happening right under their noses, and she wanted nothing more than to see them break up and destroy one another as painfully as possible. It was the perfect way for her to gain power. All she had to do was appeal to their insecurities.

Bianca, she thought, was easy. She had a vague idea of her history with the Phoenix. She'd heard all the gossip and rumours, read all the documented stories, even had the privilege of working with Michael herself. She didn't care for emotional attachments but she knew that Bianca did. Behind that cool, callous façade she was rife with jealousy. She needed to be the centre of everyone's world, and Veronica would bring that to her in a most unpleasant way.

Wyatt, though, was more cautious. He wasn't as headstrong as the Phoenix; he didn't just rush into things without thinking. He did, however, have a tendency to throw caution to the wind when his mind was set on something. It was a flaw in his system – letting his emotions sway him into believing an idea, producing some drastic action as a result of this. She needed to push him to that state without raising suspicion. She needed to wear him down. Words would not be enough to convince him – one way or another she would have to come up with proof that incriminated his so-called-lover. That opportunity would come in time, like all of them.

Veronica threw her hand forward, the heel clearly coming in contact with the demon's jaw. Dropping to the ground she straightened her leg and spun around, sweeping him off his feet. Lifting her hand with a flourish she conjured and twirled the dagger before bringing it down into his body.

"Jax tells me there's some dissension amongst the camps," she said, straightening and looking back to Wyatt. He manifested another orb ball, casting it towards the assailants. "He thinks someone is working against you."

"You waited until we were in the middle of a battle to tell me this?" Wyatt asked incredulously.

"Well I didn't know if you'd listen to me considering you value everyone else's opinion above mine. I didn't think you'd believe any of us without some kind of proof."

"Do you have any?" Wyatt inquired.

"I'd be lying if I told you I did. I don't want to be like everyone else that harbours secrets from you. I promise you that I will try my best to uncover whatever's causing this unsettlement within the group."

"I don't expect you to vouch your loyalty to me. I'm not some kind of tyrant."

"I know. Even though… ow! Fuck!"

Veronica looked down at her arm. The skin began to bubble, absorbing the virulent liquid into her body. She knew the reaction to this kind of chemical was not as dire as it looked, but there was no harm in making Wyatt think otherwise. It was an opportunity. She knew that Wyatt was only aware of the physical characteristics of these demons; he didn't know anything about the chemical that sprayed from their mouths.

"We have to retreat," she insisted.

"What? Why?" Wyatt questioned.

"They're too dangerous. We're not prepared. If we stay they're going to slaughter the whole team," she said. Wyatt looked at her quizzically. She presented her arm to him. "Do you want me to fucking die? We have to go now!"

Calling for his men to draw back, Wyatt orbed back to the study of the house that neighboured the manor. His employees followed suit, all squeezing into the room and staring at Wyatt expectantly. Some of them appeared agitated, infuriated with being interrupted in their plight.

"We regroup in twenty," Wyatt said, dismissing them. He grabbed Jax just before he was able to step out the door, his hand fastening urgently around his arm. "Get Bianca."

Veronica smiled as she overheard his request. This was working out perfectly. As soon as Wyatt turned back to her she resumed her anguished expression.

"We have to hurry," she said, stripping off her shirt and throwing it on the chair as she rushed into the adjoining bathroom.

"Wait! What…?" Wyatt asked, glancing curiously at the shirt in passing as he followed her. Entering the bathroom he saw she had spun the taps enough for the water to blast from the faucet. "Why did you take your shirt off?"

"Are you kidding me?" she retorted, glaring at him. "That shirt cost me two hundred dollars! I'm not wrecking it because some inconsiderate demon spat on me!"

"Okay, well…" Wyatt stammered. He looked at her arm, watching her cringe and cry out as she vainly splashed water on it. "Can I help you out?"

"Heal me," she said.

"I… can't. There're laws to that."

"It has to be caused by a demon and it was. That means you can."

Wyatt sighed and lifted his hands. "I'll try."

"No," Veronica said, pushing his hands away. "Take off your belt."

"I'm not going to—"

"Listen. This poison races faster into the system than you'd be able to heal me. We used to tip arrows and dunk blades in the stuff before we went after targets. I've seen hundreds of people die like this. Don't let me. Take off your belt and make a tourniquet."

Obligingly he removed the leather from the loops of his pants, winding it around the bridge of her arm and pulling it tightly. Veronica faked relief at the pressure. She heard the door push open wider in the study, the sound of small feet padding across the floor, and from the sliver in the doorway between the bathroom and the study she could make out a feminine form that appeared to be Bianca. Purposely she elevated her voice, taking the belt from Wyatt's hand so he could heal her. She was surprised at the tingling sensation and it was over far quicker than she anticipated.

"Wow your hands are amazing," she gushed.

"Thank you," he replied. "I get a lot of practice."

Sliding past him she unwound the belt, stepping just past the doorway into the study. Bianca was looking at her shirt with the same mysticism Wyatt had earlier.

"Oh, hi Bianca," Veronica said, drawing her attention to her. It didn't take long for Bianca to realise who the shirt belonged to as Veronica stood before her half undressed. The dark-haired Phoenix turned back towards the bathroom door, dangling the belt in the air before throwing it in to Wyatt. "Here you go, stud. Don't forget to put this back on."

Bianca's eyes darkened with jealousy and hatred as she watched her. Flamboyantly Veronica flipped her long hair over her shoulder as she strode back to her shirt.

"He really knows what he's doing, doesn't he?" she said suggestively in passing, pulling her shirt back on.

Bianca eyed her enviously. What she had heard, what she was seeing, it was all adding up to one conclusion in her mind, one she did not want to come to. But she knew everyone else had done it to her – why not Wyatt?

"Oh, good, you're here," Wyatt said, emerging from the bathroom and fastening the buckle on his belt.

Bianca instantly grew angry at the sight of him. She wasn't going to play his games anymore.

"We'll attempt more later," Veronica said to him.

She could barely contain the satisfied grin on her face as she left. Bianca had clearly misconstrued everything she'd said.

"You're a welcome sight to see coming back from hardship," Wyatt said, waiting for the door to close before he walked over to her and put his arms around her waist. He leant down to kiss her and she turned her head away. "What's wrong?"

"Why did you ask me up here?"

"Can't a guy spend a little quality time with his girlfriend?" he asked innocently. She glared at him. Again he leant forward and she moved away. Defeated, he let go of her. "Okay, straight down to business then. We need to assemble a larger team to battle the Scabbar demons. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to head one?"

"Not if it's an offer to improve my state of mind."

Wyatt narrowed his eyes. "It wasn't my suggestion, but I'd feel more confident knowing there's someone out there who's capable of achieving a good result with their inherited skills."

"Wouldn't the Phoenix be opposed to me ordering them around?"

"We're reconvening shortly. Let's find out."

* * *

Bianca followed Wyatt into the room, surveying all those already there. Veronica stood by the doorway. Catching sight of her, Wyatt thought to inquire about her health.

"How's your arm?" he asked.

"Fine. You didn't hurt me. There isn't even a single mark to show it happened," Veronica replied.

Bianca couldn't look at either of them, her mind already reeling with images of what could have happened behind that door. Instead she moved to stand as far across the room from Wyatt as she could get. Although he was aware it was a wise decision to conceal their relationship, he was still hurt by her sudden avoidance of him. He looked forlornly after her before moving to a position where he could best address the crowd.

"We're going to extend our defence," he informed them. "All of you will be returning alongside us. I want you to listen to and obey the orders given to you. It is the only way to improve our chances. I'm sure I don't have to remind you where reckless attitudes and individual actions will lead you."

Bianca's eyes scanned the crowd. The composed and austere image she tried to retain was giving way to fear. She was worried what their reaction would be once Wyatt told them they had to listen to her – the "traitor" as most of them seemed to think. She grew even more anxious when she saw Veronica draw close to Wyatt, her lips almost brushing his ear.

"Bianca's quite agitated," Veronica whispered to Wyatt, her gaze fixated on the fellow Phoenix across the room. "Perhaps she's the one behind the underlying threat. It wouldn't be out of character for her, judging by her history. And constant withdrawal is often a sign of guilt."

Wyatt looked to Veronica as she settled back onto her heels. His gaze drifted over to Bianca. He could visibly see that she wasn't being herself. In fact she hardly looked confidant at all. And she had drawn away from him earlier in the study. She wouldn't even meet his eyes anymore. It led him to conclude that there was a great possibility Veronica could be right, but he didn't want to believe it without seeing some visible proof with his own eyes. He didn't want to believe that after all this Bianca would turn around and betray him once again.

He cleared his throat. "As I was saying, I want you to divide into several teams. Of course those under the command of Veronica, Shailo, Marcus and Nervand will continue as they were. The remainder are to follow either my orders or those handed out by Bianca who has warranted her skills in these kinds of situations from previous experiences. I expect no rebellion. Do not oppose my decisions. If you feel the need to die then do it justly."

Bianca saw many an eye turn to look sceptically at her, but not a single one questioned Wyatt's judgement. As Wyatt began to organise the teams Veronica sauntered through the crowd towards her; Jax, Stanford and her other men in tow.

"Don't get too overexcited at the prospect of finally getting out into the field," she said scathingly. "Truly he thinks you're a hack, and far too old for this kind of thing. That's why he never lets you go anywhere. He's just doing this right now to keep you happy, because that way he knows you won't dispute him and he'll then get everything he wants without any kind of conflict."

The comment was a devastating blow to her ego. She became indecisive and edgy, and her lack of confidence reflected in her poor performance against the Scabbar demons. She, herself, didn't get hurt, but the number of fatalities in her team were far higher than the rest.

"Bianca, what is wrong with you?" Wyatt asked irritably, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the group upon their return.

"Why don't you tell me?" she retorted, her hair flying in her face as she spun back to him. "Seeing as you think I'm not good enough."

"If you're referencing to before, I didn't think of you because it didn't cross my mind. I only agreed to the suggestion because I thought you could handle it."

"Because I survived every other time, right?" Bianca questioned, her meaning entirely different to his. "What makes you think I wouldn't have killed you?"

"Because it's too hard for you to destroy someone like me."

"You arrogant bastard."

"You weren't angry enough to even summon that kind of personal energy. In fact that was probably the poorest performance I've seen from you. I'd almost think you were that flawed intentionally."

She glared at him but felt as if she were slowly crumbling inside. She couldn't understand why he was being so harsh with her, why he was belittling her like that. And he wasn't denying any of it either, which hurt her all the more. She thought he'd had some respect for her. She'd even been convinced that he did love her. But surely someone who acted this way, this childishly, cared only about themselves. She felt as if she were about to break down, but if that happened she didn't want to give him the pleasure of seeing it. Quickly she turned without a word and raced away.

Veronica paused as she heard the shouting between them. She waited for Bianca to leave before approaching Wyatt who was doing little more than staring after her. He was efficiently distracted enough not to notice what she had in mind.

"Wyatt, your bracelet," she said. He blinked a few times, glancing blankly down to his arm. She grabbed his hand, lifting it. "You've got Scabbar acid on it. It's going to rust if you leave it. I know how to fix it, but you'll have to give it to me. Surely you don't want to lose something so important to you. I know you wear it constantly."

"Um…" he said distractedly. Almost zombie-like he removed it from his wrist, letting it drop into her hand.

"It'll take a few hours. I'll return it tomorrow."

"You're, ah, sure it's going to be okay?" he asked, seemingly coming out of his daze.

"It'll look as good as new. I promise. There are many family secrets that lie within the Phoenix coven. Not all of them relate to killing."

"Special spells?"

"Special books," Veronica said, arching an eyebrow. "Like the one Bianca's family keeps. Like the ones in the library containing insights into the history of every witch known to man. If you're ever feeling nosey you could always go do some research yourself. I suppose you never thought to check all the skeletons in Bianca's closet."

Turning, she headed away from Wyatt, knowing she'd planted little seeds of doubt in his mind. She knew she had stirred his curiosity from the pensive state she'd left him in. She was certain he knew nothing of Bianca's parents. And now she had something else to taunt Bianca with. Casually she swung the bracelet around in her hands, whistling as she walked up the stairs. Before she reached the top she shimmered out.


	44. Chapter 44

**2027 **_cont._

Upon hearing the knock at her door, Veronica knew Jax had done as he was told. She had paid him a visit earlier, promising a wealth of things as she prompted him to act concerned about her absence and relay the fear to both Bianca and Wyatt. Quickly she lay Wyatt's bracelet on the table in clear view of the entryway and then grabbed a brush, running it through her hair as she approached and opened the door. She was pleased to see Bianca on the other side.

"I'm late, I know," Veronica said, feigning anxiety.

"Is everything alright?" Bianca questioned. "Jax said he couldn't reach you."

"I was probably still sleeping. It's hard to rouse me after such a physically exhausting night."

"There's no excuse for tardiness," she heard Wyatt's voice say from the outside corridor.

"You're one to talk," she replied, taking a step back and allowing both Wyatt and Bianca to enter.

As cautious as ever, Bianca stepped into the living room and looked around warily. Her gaze fell upon the bracelet. She recognised it as the one Wyatt wore, but she knew he never took it off. Glancing back at their hushed conversation she noticed his left wrist was bare.

"Oh, you forgot something," Veronica said to Wyatt, elevating her voice and passing Bianca. She picked up the bracelet and held it out to him. "Maybe next time you should slow down a little."

"Maybe next time I shouldn't comply with how you want things done," Wyatt returned. He fastened the bracelet around his wrist. "Thanks. I should probably compliment you on your talent."

"Anytime," Veronica said with a smile.

Bianca shifted uncomfortably. She didn't want to bear witness to this conversation. She didn't want to acknowledge that she knew what the cryptic discussion was about. He hadn't sought her out last night, as she expected he would, to apologise. Instead he'd run to the raven-haired vixen – his new 'plaything' – and was obviously taking great pleasure rubbing Bianca's noise in it.

"Well… shall we get going?" Veronica asked, slapping her hands together. It was all Bianca needed to activate her departure, brushing past them indifferently on her way out the door.

Wyatt looked after her. He was concerned but he knew she didn't want him around, not from the cold way she'd treated him this morning, speaking to him bluntly only when she had to. He knew it had to be something to do with her, he hadn't done anything wrong. He remembered moments when he had been able to coax things out of her, but not nowadays. She was as tight as a vault with the information she kept from him. It made him doubt her even more.

"I hate to ask you this," Wyatt said to Veronica. "Are you able to keep a close eye on her? I don't like my employees straying, and perhaps she'd find it more comfortable to confide in someone of the same background."

"You really haven't read up on her, have you?" Veronica questioned.

"I don't think I'm privy to that sort of information. You wouldn't want me prying into your past, would you?"

"Why not? I've got nothing to hide," Veronica said disagreeably. It was somewhat true, what she was concealing was in fact well in the open, disguised by other things. "It's just the same as any employee's background check. You do want to be careful, don't you? Or do you just like winging it so much you're going to stick to being reckless?"

"I'll do what I feel the need to do," Wyatt said seriously. "And there'll be no questions about it."

"We'll be doing nothing if we don't move now. You're letting her get terribly far ahead of us."

* * *

Although she hadn't agreed to Wyatt's request, Veronica still fulfilled it. Not out of concern but merely for her own enjoyment. She watched the sway of Bianca's hand, the manoeuvre of the athame, the marksmanship of her attack. She was ruthless and Veronica knew she was more than irritated, she was infuriated. Every time Wyatt came within close vicinity of her she would instantly move away. Veronica revelled in her victory over the fellow Phoenix. Now she just had to work on Wyatt a little more.

Scrutinising the curvature of Bianca's hand, Veronica noted that the athame she consistently used appeared very plain. It was flat with next to no detail and would be quite easy to replicate. Veronica conjured its likeness into her hand, glancing quickly to ensure it looked the same right down to the finest aspect. Burrowing it into the back of her pants, she concealed it with her overshirt which was loose enough not to reveal the shape of the handle. Nobody noticed. And Veronica appeared the good little employee by not only keeping an eye on Bianca during the fight, but also following her down to the basement where all the captives were kept upon their return.

It was here she laid down her next plan. It didn't go unappreciated when Veronica handed one of the prisoners the replicated weapon. She concocted an elaborate tale for the demon to repeat. She told him she would return later, yet again deciding to make a physical sacrifice to win Wyatt's favour. But she needed to buy time so as not to implicate herself. She needed to go elsewhere first and establish an alibi.

Luck was on her side as time passed, Wyatt requested her presence to run over what had happened, and after dismissing the others took the chance to chat to her in private about Bianca.

"She was better today," Wyatt said.

"She was pissed off," Veronica returned. "Did you say something to her?"

"Yesterday afternoon. I told her to pull herself together. She was questioning my expectations of her, but I've hardly changed my views. I know there's something wrong with her but I don't want to so readily believe she's about to betray me again."

"Maybe you should have killed her the first time," Veronica offered. Wyatt swallowed hard, dropping his gaze. She had no idea, no idea what had happened and what they'd been through, that he very nearly did kill her in a moment of abject rage and self-defence. "It would have saved you all this concern."

"I'll deal with Bianca in my own way!" he snapped. Veronica shrugged his aggression off.

"If you want me off the case I don't mind. I have better things to do anyway."

She didn't hang around for Wyatt's answer, instead leaving as quickly as she could to put her plan into action. As she came across the room she needed to enter, she checked quickly to ensure that there were enough people around to witness the attack. Happy to find a sufficient number she entered the room.

"Do your worst," she instructed. "But if you try to kill me, I'll ensure you spend your final minutes suffering a slow, torturous death."

Obligingly the demon attacked. Veronica shouted, calling for help. It wasn't long before Jax and a few others came to her rescue. Hearing the chaos, Wyatt raced down the stairs. Bianca poked her head around the corner, seeing Jax wrestle the demon to the ground. She stayed well away from the flailing arms and legs, not interested in being part of a violent brawl. Veronica shook off one of her rescuers, nursing her arm as she emerged from the room and stepped before Wyatt.

"What happened?" Wyatt asked angrily.

"What does it look like? He attacked me!" Veronica retorted. "I don't know where he got the weapon…"

"From the Phoenix that's always down here. Bianca," the demon interjected. "She was going to let me escape, so long as I agreed to be part of her rebellion. She gave me the dagger and told me to maim as many people as I liked on the way out."

Wyatt looked past the amalgamating crowd and saw Bianca slink into view from the corner. "Bianca, is this true?"

"No," she replied, affronted. She made her way towards him, trying to garner a better view of what was happening.

"She's lying," the demon said. "I'm not the only one she's made plans with. She's trying to get a team together to overpower you."

Bianca glared at the demon, wondering why he was spouting such untruths. Jax kicked the demon with his heel, twisting his arm further as he removed the weapon from his hand. Veronica arched her head and looked curiously at the object.

"Hey, isn't that Bianca's athame?" she queried aloud.

Bianca watched as Wyatt moved into the room. Jax handed the athame to him and he looked at it pensively, examining it. He walked back to Bianca, holding it up before him so that it was visible to her also. She saw it was remarkably alike and would have believed the demon save for the fact she knew she hadn't given it to him.

"Is this yours?" Wyatt asked.

"No," she answered with hurt eyes, seeing he'd been swayed. She could tell Wyatt believed the demon. He had proof in his hands. "Yes, I know it looks like mine but I swear I didn't give it to him."

"Who else would?" Veronica interrogated. "Nobody spends more time down here than you. Nobody hates the Phoenix like you. Only you would give free reign to our destruction."

Wyatt grimaced and Bianca knew he had bought the implications. He stepped away from the group but that segregation didn't stop him from accepting every word. She rushed towards him, taking hold of his arms. He met her eyes with a perturbed stare.

"Wyatt, please. I didn't do it. You have to believe me," she pleaded.

"Why should I? It's not like you haven't lied to me before."

"That was different. I'm being set up," she replied, clearly upset.

"Oh, that's a new one," Wyatt said sarcastically. "Who do you suppose is doing that?"

Bianca looked back to the group. One person clearly stood out from the rest – the 'victim', the one who had been taunting her. Bianca had seen her follow her down earlier. She had time. And she was a Phoenix; it wouldn't be hard for her to conjure something so simple.

"Veronica. She's been stalking me for the past few days. She's trying to turn you against me."

Wyatt scoffed. "Why would she do that?"

"Because she wants to get rid of me. Because… maybe she's in love with you. Maybe she wants you to herself."

"That's ridiculous, Bianca. You're creating assumptions just to get yourself out of trouble. I've had enough of your games. I'm not going to play them anymore. Just forget about us," he said heatedly. She moved about agitatedly, trying to keep herself together, holding back all the emotions that threatened to make her fall apart. Heading back to the group he turned back to look at Bianca one last time. "And for your information she couldn't have done it because she was with me."

It was like the last bullet fired from the chamber directly into her heart. Veronica had won. She didn't know how but the fellow Phoenix had managed to take Wyatt away from her. She had to do something to make it right. And all she could think of was the book, the pages that Amanda touched and how she told them that it had once been alright.

She shimmered to the study. The book sat in clear view on the desk, as if it was purposefully placed there and she was meant to find it. Quickly she raced over to it, opening it up and flipping through the pages. She didn't care about the force she used to flick them over, reasoning that the book had already been destroyed from the few pages ripped out of it. The loose sheets fluttered to the floor and she picked them up. She couldn't understand the text on any of the pages of the book, but she stopped as soon as she saw the eye. That was the reason Wyatt was like this. At least she was sure that's what Amanda had said. But she could find no way to bring about its destruction. Closing and picking up the book she headed down to the only person who could tell her how to fix this, the only person she knew of that could understand that book – Amanda.

* * *

Wyatt sat at the desk in the study, his head in his hands as he scrutinized the page before him. He didn't know what he was meant to find here. As far as he could tell Jeremiah and Lyn Lawson were standout members of the coven. Even when they had Bianca their performance failed to falter. If anything they seemed to be rewarded for their efforts – given a multitude of high prizes and opportunities which extended so far that Lyn was trusted to look after the Grimoire. Bianca hadn't told him that. Neither had she told him her father died violently to which she'd born witness.

"What are you reading?" Veronica asked. Walking up to the table she peered over. "Ah, the Lawsons. You finally took my advice."

"Not without detrition," he answered, glancing towards her. "What am I looking for?"

"Did you reach the part where Bianca's father died?"

"Yes."

"And? What did you think?"

"It didn't sound fun," he replied, the statement airing a questionable feasibility.

"Do you realise why he died?" she pressed further.

"Veronica, you're assassins. You have hundreds of enemies."

"But we don't work against our compatriots," she returned quickly. "He turned his back on the coven, just like Bianca. Betrayal is in her genes."

Wyatt contemplated the statement for a moment. Betrayal wasn't something that could be that simplified. If it was true, well, what did that mean for his family? Chris had betrayed him, but he felt he hadn't done anything to ascertain that kind of behaviour. And he refused to believe his parents were capable of doing anything to anyone apart from helping them. It wasn't in their nature.

"I'm not going to enter into a nature versus nurture debate with you," he said.

"We've got all the time in the world," Veronica pointed out, flopping back into a chair. "I don't care what the discussion's about, so long as it's entertaining."

"I'm not up for meandering conversation either," Wyatt stated. Closing the book, he pushed it away form him and rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn.

"Were you trying to exhaust yourself last night?" she inquired.

"No. My mind had free reign over my body. It was rather sleepless." He paused. "I'm starting to think I was too hard on her."

"I rather thought you were too soft," Veronica countered. "You kill people for less."

"What is this fascination you have with me killing Bianca?" Wyatt snapped, slapping his hand down on the desk as he glared at her.

"I didn't say that," Veronica argued. "I said 'others'. You're being too sensitive."

"I am not being sensitive!"

"And now you're being aggressive. You need to calm down. I'm not your enemy."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do!" he bellowed. His hands glowed blue as an energy ball flared into his palms.

"You have rage issues," Veronica said, her gaze warily focusing on the ball in his hands. "Go for a walk. Clear your head."

Wyatt looked at her broodingly, reluctantly making the ball disappear. He wanted to take his anger out on something, but he knew it would be wiser not to. He would try to walk it off first as Veronica suggested.

* * *

Bianca found she was unable to visit Amanda. As soon as she'd made an appearance on the stairway she noticed that everybody was eyeing her suspiciously. She could see the scowls and disapproval on their faces; see them take on guarded positions. Wherever there was more than one, she noticed how they'd glance her way and then whisper to one another. She knew they were talking about her, speculating, making up even worse stories about what she had done. It made her incredibly uncomfortable, especially in a place where she had once had so much free reign and was barely given a second look as she passed through the halls. Anyone that spoke to her spoke with disdain, and those that she felt she could have decent conversations with now treated her as if she wasn't worth their time. She tried to look like it didn't affect her, but it did. She hated Veronica, hated her for influencing everyone's opinion, making them despise her, for taking away everything she'd once had leaving her feeling completely useless and utterly alone.

She took the book home, hiding it and waiting for the time when she could get to Amanda, when there would be nobody there. She passed the first few hours leafing through the book, trying to make herself understand the text, but it was hopeless and it made her feel worse – it was another thing she couldn't do. She was caught between lethargy and fear, cautiously on edge, all the while expecting Wyatt was going to discover the book was gone and come after her, that he would take that next step in her destruction.

She made herself coffee as she tried to keep herself awake, staring at the spot where the book was now hidden. She didn't know if she could last the night. She also wasn't certain she'd be able to function the next morning without any sleep. Curling up on the couch she decided to give in to the need to be recumbent and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

She found she woke in record time, approximately half an hour before she needed to go. Quickly she jumped into the shower to refresh herself and dressed in another assortment of dark clothes, knowing it would help conceal her in the early moments before dawn.

She was glad to be right about something, the house was virtually empty. Walking past the study she heard the sound of orbs and quickly ducked into the next room and closed the door. When she was sure nobody was outside, she opened the door a crack and peered out. Across the hallway she saw Wyatt pass in the slight view she was afforded. He had a book in his hands. It looked vaguely familiar to her, but she wasn't sure what it was. His footsteps stopped and she waited, listening. Finally there was a small thump like he'd dropped the volume onto something solid. Cautiously she slipped back out, hoping what had happened to the book was enough to distract him from her presence.

Holding the Book of Ramon close to her chest she jogged quickly down the stairs, cringing a little at the echo of her heels underneath her. She probably should have chosen her footwear more wisely. Finally she reached Amanda's doorway. Glancing around quickly, she made her way inside.

"Amanda!" she hissed.

"What, mom?" Amanda asked drowsily.

Rolling her eyes, Bianca made her way over to the girl's body, clutching the book as she crouched down next to her.

"Get up," Bianca urged.

"But I don't have school today," Amanda whined.

Bianca pushed her roughly. Amanda moved, blinking open her eyes and shuddering. Bleary-eyed she looked towards Bianca.

"Don't tell me you've introduced sleep deprivation as more torture?" she asked. "You shouldn't have woken me. I was having a kick-ass dream about being home, you know, before you guys made it this crappy."

"I want you to change it," Bianca said.

"Huh? What? I don't…" Amanda sat up. "How do you expect me to change it?"

"With this," Bianca said, laying the book down in front of her.

Hearing voices as she strolled down into the corridor, Veronica moved towards them just in time to hear Bianca trying to persuade Amanda to use the book to change things. It seemed to her that Bianca was now taking up the idea she had convinced so many others she was already doing. But she knew if this happened it was going to threaten her chances of overthrowing Wyatt. She couldn't have that. She needed to alert Wyatt. She also realised Amanda knew far too much if Bianca was confiding in her. That problem she'd have to deal with later. Hastily she shimmered out in search of her employer.

"You can't be serious," Amanda said, looking at the book discouragingly.

"Please," Bianca requested softly.

Amanda glanced up. She could see Bianca's exterior belied her interior. Her eyes held a desperation like she'd never seen before. She sniffed loudly, acting as if it were a big inconvenience for her. She didn't want to just give in and do what she said. She would be here forever if they knew they could command her however they wanted.

"I can't just whip up a magic solution. If I could, wouldn't you have thought I would have done it long before I got here?" she pointed out. Bianca looked disheartened. "Why are you so eager for me to do this anyway?"

"I can't… I don't know how to do this anymore. Wyatt's not the same as he was. At least… you said things were better before. I don't want to feel this badly forever," she struggled to say, tears brimming in her eyes. "I don't want to listen to my thoughts. I don't want to be hurt."

"I'm sorry," Amanda apologised. "Maybe I was wrong. I shouldn't have pushed you two together."

Bianca shook her head defiantly. "I want this. I want him."

"I can't change it for you. There's no spell for that in here," Amanda said, placing her hands on the book. She opened it back up to the page with the eye, just to be sure. She saw a flash, a minor one. She saw Chris, looking at the same thing as she was now, but the text was in modern English. "There's another book. The one you were looking at, that had that letter in it. It's a long shot, but maybe you can find something to help you there."

Bianca stared at her, finally lowering her gaze in thought. Yet again she was going have to steal the Book of Shadows and use it to try to solve the problem. It had almost worked last time, but then she had had help. She didn't know how she was going to do this without Chris.


	45. Chapter 45

**2027 **_cont._

Bianca broke from her reverie as the door was wrenched open behind her. Amanda immediately pushed herself away, scampering backwards across the floor until her back hit the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" Wyatt's voice boomed. It seemed to vibrate and bounce off the walls as if he were using a megaphone. His quick strides gave Bianca no time to move as his hand roughly grabbed hold of her upper arm and yanked her to her feet. "That book was not to be touched without my consent. What are you doing with it?"

Bianca didn't answer him. She was scared to see how furious he was. She'd never seen him this angry, at least not since the day he'd thrown Chris around the attic. Amanda made a grab for the book and he turned towards her wrathfully, flicking his fingers and sending her sliding back empty-handed.

"You. Stay," he ordered, his grip tightening on Bianca. Amanda shrank back obediently, terrified he would do something else to her that could leave her in a much worse condition.

Hauling Bianca towards the door, he threw her out into the hallway and closed the solid surface behind him. Although she could have used the opportunity to shimmer away, she didn't. She knew he'd track her down. It was easier just to face him.

"What were you doing with the book? Are you trying to get someone else to carry out your little plan? Make her change it so I didn't know?" he questioned. She didn't speak, frightened for the way he was acting. He pushed her back against the wall and she changed expression to appear more defiant. "Answer me! I don't want to have to kill you, Bianca."

Bianca caught her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to prevent herself from crumbling under the threat, trying to stop herself from remembering the last time.

"I wanted her to find a way to make you stop treating me like shit," Bianca finally answered him, her words coming out careful and thoughtful. "I didn't do anything to deserve this."

"You gave a weapon to one of the prisoners. You're consulting a potentially dangerous girl whose mind powers go beyond the realm of thought. I can't believe that I ever fell for your seduction and lies. I knew all along what you were really like."

Bianca shook her head. "You don't know anything."

"On the contrary, I know everything. I know you were set high expectations to live up to your parents. I know you had access to one of the most powerful tomes ever written. And I know you watched your father die for the exact same things you're doing now."

Bianca choked out a sob, squeezing her eyes closed and lowering her head as tears began to run down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook as she tried to compose herself, as she struggled to say something, but her voice couldn't break through the pain. Wyatt remained silent, watching her contemplatively. He lifted a hand towards her and she swatted it away.

"You really know how to make someone feel like dirt," she said, looking up to him. "But you're wrong. You don't know everything. You can't even seem to fathom how much you hurt me by parading your little affair around. You promised you wouldn't hurt me. You said that you were never going to be like everybody else. But you are. She told me what you were doing. She told me you were faking everything to keep me happy so I wouldn't kick up a fuss. She told me… god you showed me, you don't want me anymore."

Wyatt felt a wealth of emotions but there was not one he could settle on. He didn't understand what she was talking about. He felt as if they were living in two completely different worlds and neither of them comprehended what they were discussing. It left him unable to react effectively, unable to speak what needed to be said. He could only start by finding out the identity of the person she was talking about.

"Who?" he uttered. "Who told you?

"Veronica," she revealed, concealing her face behind her hand.

Wyatt shifted his foot. A small squeak emitted from beneath his heel, breaking the silence. He wasn't quite as angry as he had been, his temper simmering over the causes of this predicament. He didn't need so much to look as feel there were prying eyes watching from somewhere. He reached out to Bianca and orbed them both away, taking refuge in her apartment where he was sure they'd be far enough removed from everybody else as to work this out for themselves.

* * *

Wyatt had made it quite clear he didn't want Veronica to follow him, but she wasn't about to miss the big showdown. It was about time that Bianca paid for everything she had done, that justice be served upon her for her treachery. Keeping a safe distance away, she watched as Wyatt hauled Bianca from the room into the hallway. The shouting was loud enough to echo across the entire floor, and everything would have been clearly exposed save for the fact it was still early and the entire place was almost absent of life.

She listened more astutely as the level of conversation began to die down. She could hear someone crying. Taking a quick glimpse she was joyous to see it was Bianca. She wasn't as unaffected as she pretended to be. But then something happened that Veronica didn't expect. Granted, Bianca fumbled her way through some kind of explanation which would have completely unravelled Veronica's plans if Wyatt understood a single thing she was talking about, but from here it seemed all gibberish and she knew Wyatt would have remained confused. She'd hoped he'd still be furious, possibly even believing her insane. But to Veronica's surprise Wyatt left behind his reign of terror to be sympathetic, and within minutes he took them both away. Her plan had been thwarted.

Disgruntled, Veronica made her way over to Amanda's room and peered through the window. The girl had pulled the book back towards her, flicking through the pages with keen interest. Her enthusiasm would be short-lived, Veronica decided, shimmering her way out to recruit Jax and the rest of her men. The mutiny would begin now.

She returned quickly. Wyatt and Bianca were still missing in action. It gave her enough time to personally deal out punishments. Her first obstacle, and current threat, was Amanda. She ordered her men to seize the girl and string her up. It wasn't in the usual style, a combination of powers and abilities seeing the girl dragged into the hallway by her heels, then telekinetically lifted and flipped upside down. Amanda shook her shaggy dirty blonde locks as they fell over her face, blowing the pieces until she could see clearly.

"Where's Wyatt?" she asked.

Veronica placed her hands on her hips, pacing back and forth in front of the girl. Amanda followed her with her eyes.

"He left me in charge," Veronica answered.

"Doubt it," Amanda said.

Veronica lifted her hand from her hip and manifested a dagger, slicing it cleanly across the girl's arm. Instinctively Amanda tried to pull away, clutching at the wound.

"I'm not as compassionate as Wyatt. Our kind doesn't suffer from emotional flaws."

Amanda looked at her studiously. She didn't entirely know what she meant. What exactly was she? Veronica lifted her chin in a defiant notion and Amanda saw the edge of a mark on her neck, disguised by her long dark hair. She tried to swing herself towards her, hitting her with her free hand. It barely did anything to Veronica, but the knock was enough of a jolt for her hair to fall away and the birthmark on her neck to be fully revealed. Amanda immediately identified it as the same one that was on Bianca's wrist.

"You're a Phoenix!" Amanda exclaimed. "But I guess I should have worked that one out from the bad-ass weapon and the couldn't-give-a-stuff attitude."

"Smart girl," Veronica said. "But you aren't smart enough to learn to keep your mouth shut."

Tightening her grip around the dagger's handle, Veronica brought the squared off metal encased in her fist snapping back through the air until she made contact with Amanda's face, smashing it into her cheekbone. Amanda's teeth closed over the inside of her cheek, and she swallowed hard as she tried to rid the taste of blood from her mouth.

"What were you looking for in the book? Why is it so important?" Veronica questioned.

Amanda's arm grew tired as the weight of gravity made her entire being feel heavier. She let go, hanging there as she listened to the Phoenix earnestly question her.

"I was looking for my ticket out of this god-forsaken place," Amanda answered. "It's the only thing I can use to avoid dealing with everyone's power trips."

The blood rushing to her head made her feel groggy and her awareness of Veronica's actions became rather limited. She did not see her pass off the dagger to curl her hand, nor particularly the motion of that fist coming towards her. She did, however, feel the pain that burned her face when the fist made contact with her cornea. There was a white flash as Veronica pulled her hand back, Amanda seeing a dark alley, needles and bloody bodies littering the ground. She both felt and saw a hand caress Veronica's cheek, and then nothing. She emerged from the memories she had seen through the touch to a hazy looking hallway. She couldn't make out the figures anymore, they were all distorted shadows. Her heart beat a little faster as she started to panic. Her head hurt severely, and it hurt much more than it had at any time before. Between the dark figures she saw white lights blink. She hoped it was Wyatt, but nobody came to save her.

"Wrong answer," Veronica said. "Tell me what you know about the Eye of Acrilya."

* * *

"Do you trust me?" Wyatt asked.

"No," Bianca murmured. She dropped down onto the couch, unable to support herself anymore.

Wyatt placed his hands on his hips and looked out the window. "I guess that's fair enough."

The unusualness of the reply caught Bianca's attention. She lowered her hand and looked up to him. Her cheeks were streaked from her tears, but she was crying no longer. She saw he was worried, anxious even, but that anger he'd once held had dissipated quite rapidly.

"I don't tend to trust people easily, and I know you don't either. Despite that we both seem to have eagerly taken aboard knowledge that someone else has given us. It makes me wonder how much faith we put into each other in the first place."

"What?" Bianca asked quietly, unsure as to what he was getting at. He looked back to her, his eyes softening.

"I didn't mean to upset you. I didn't intend on prying into your past in the first place. Veronica recommended I do so."

"Would you call me a coward for hiding? I didn't watch him die," Bianca explained. "I didn't even know it was the Phoenix who killed him. Michael told me. My father wasn't a traitor. He was trying to protect me."

"So was I," Wyatt said sniffing and running a hand under his nose.

"I don't see how fucking someone else does that," Bianca said bluntly.

At first Wyatt looked surprised at the insinuation, the sudden change in topic catching him completely off guard. Narrowing his eyes he tilted his head and looked at her studiously. He saw she was serious; she wasn't trying to throw him off the conversation.

"Are you suggesting that… Veronica and I…" Wyatt began, fumbling for the right words. "Did she tell you this?"

"She didn't have to. I saw you," Bianca said.

"When?" Wyatt interrogated.

"In the bathroom," Bianca said. Wyatt shook his head, irritating Bianca with his denial. "She was half undressed, Wyatt! She had your belt and… you didn't even try to hide it."

"That's because nothing happened. I was fixing her arm. We were using the belt as a tourniquet."

"Your bracelet was at her apartment."

"She was cleaning it," Wyatt explained. Bianca glared at him, the excuses sounding all but flimsy. "I'm starting to think she set me up."

"Well now you know what it's like to be framed," Bianca retorted.

"Let me explain something to you. I might look at other women, I might be tempted by them, I might even be distracted enough to neglect you, but I'm never going to abandon you to endorse in a fling or anything else of that nature. I value you too much to endanger our relationship like that," Wyatt said. She watched as he moved to sit in front of her, glancing off to the side pensively. "I didn't expect much to begin with. When my mother died I took it pretty hard. I was depressed for a year. I spent another two years abusing whatever I could. It was during that time I decided to deflect the anger from myself and direct it elsewhere. The corporations seemed a likely target after running my mother out of business. I thought if I couldn't exact her death, at least I could get vengeance on those who caused her to suffer in life. I wasn't sure what I was doing. I was hurt, I was angry, I wanted someone to pay. And then I heard about you, and it occurred to me that there was someone else out there like me, someone else who had been wronged and was living on the edge because of it. As I said, I didn't expect anything, but working with you, having you support me, my ideas, it made me feel like I was doing something right. You gave me purpose. You made me see that it wasn't about revenge, but caring for and remembering those that I loved."

Bianca swallowed the lump in her throat, seeing the emotion on his face and hearing it in his voice. She had never grasped exactly how important she had been to him. His abrupt honesty convinced her that he was telling the truth. She had been deceived, had misread everything and allowed her insecurities to exacerbate the situation. And it seemed Wyatt had been duped also. He was processing more than what had just happened recently, he was analysing his whole life.

"You only just realised that now, didn't you?" Bianca asked. He nodded. She smiled a little. "It's funny, you've spent so long reminding me how important you are to me and how you offered me salvation when I needed it… it never occurred to me I had any kind of effect on you."

"That's the reality," he said. Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his neck. "But I've just made it worse. This world is going to hell because of me. What I meant to do, what this started as, it's just spiralled out of control. I hate what I've become."

"Then stop," Bianca pleaded.

"I can't," he returned sorrowfully. "I don't know how."

"I know you think it's hard, but you're not alone. We've always wanted to help you, Wyatt. I've always wanted to help you." She leant towards him, taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his. "If we get rid of this eye, maybe it will help. Maybe things will be how they should be. Maybe you can stop."

"That's a lot of maybes," he said.

"I don't care, I want to try. I want to keep something I care about for a change."

Wyatt moved forward, his lips gently pressing against hers. She didn't pull away. She kissed him back with the kind of zeal that showed all had been forgiven. The atmosphere of the room was no longer tense but relaxed as they took a moment to absorb each other's presence in the silence.

"Amanda said the key to defeating it is in the Book of Shadows," Bianca said quietly. "But I don't know how, or where. You interrupted us before I could get anything else out of her."

"I left her with the book," Wyatt said agitatedly, remembering what he had done moments before his confrontation with Bianca. "We have to go back to her before she does anything."

Bianca nodded. "Hopefully she can tell us something else in the meantime."

Orbing back to the hallway, Bianca turned to see a body lying outside Amanda's doorway. The door was open, and it wasn't until Bianca reached her that she realised exactly whose body it was. She knelt down and lifted the girl onto her side. Strolling down the corridor towards them, Wyatt noticed that every door was open.

"There's no-one here," he observed.

Bianca looked up and around, seeing exactly what he had. "Seems like there is a revolt after all, only I wasn't the one leading it."

"I'm sorry. I should have believed you."

"If we change it, it's not going to matter," Bianca said. She pressed her fingers to the side of Amanda's neck. "There's no pulse."

Wyatt looked down at the battered body covered in bruises of varying shapes and sizes, her eyes red from whatever had haemorrhaged inside her head. Above those vacant eyes that seemed to reflect the violent and bloody torture that had brought her to this condition, Wyatt saw her eyelids had been pierced by the points of small straight blades, and her fingertips also appeared to be severed as if they had tried to strip the girl of her identity. If Wyatt had not known her already, he was sure he would not have recognised her.

"I don't think anyone could have survived an attack of that brutality," he said. "It's beyond even my measures to heal."

Bianca lowered Amanda gently back onto the floor, looking at the body mournfully. A tear slipped from her eye and as she brushed it away she saw the letter v had been carved across the girl's back, the Phoenix insignia a bloodied mark in the centre.

"The cruelty of the Phoenix strikes again," she said solemnly. "I don't think they ever intended on allowing you to lead them."

"Perhaps they're not as receptive as you."

"Don't you mean desperate?" Bianca inquired, arching a brow.

"I didn't say that."

"You were thinking it though."

"That wasn't why I approached you. I wasn't thinking tactically at that point in time, I was thinking emotionally," Wyatt explained.

"The Phoenix will do whatever they can to survive," Bianca said, recalling her reasons for visiting him in the first place. "Including me."

"Only you have one thing they don't have – compassion."

Bianca looked into his eyes and saw the comment was genuine. He understood that she cared. He understood that she was not like the rest of them. She supposed he had already known that from the beginning, but it eased her mind a little to hear him say it. She sighed despondently, averting her eyes once more.

"I don't want them to destroy you because of me," she said with a foreboding sense of guilt.

"It won't be because of you. It will be because they feel inhibited, because I'll prevent them from doing what they want to," he said confidently.

"You can't stop all of them, Wyatt. No matter how strong your powers are, you won't be able to defeat the entire Phoenix coven plus however many demons, witches and banshees you kept down here."

"I won't stand by and let them destroy everything I set out to achieve," Wyatt disputed. "Their attack will vilify me and me only. I'm not going to back down because of one death, even if it does set me back in my objective."

"Amanda wasn't just another one of your captives, she was trying to help us," Bianca scolded. "Don't be so insensitive."

"I'm not. I'm being realistic."

"You're talking about her as if she had no relevance and was just another number you could add to your kill rates."

"She was bratty and stubborn. She didn't provide me with anything useful."

Bianca looked at him crossly. "And the fact she brought us together, made us realise… are you calling our relationship useless?"

"No, of course not," Wyatt argued. "Don't turn this back on me. We know who's at fault here. I'm quite certain you want to invoke justice just as much as I do. We should be attempting to implement it instead of bickering with one another."

"I don't want to attack you," Bianca said apologetically. "What can we do? We don't know where they are."

"I know where to go to find out."

Bianca pushed herself up from the floor. She knew Wyatt would take off but she wasn't about to let him go alone. As he began to orb out she grabbed hold of him, the magic engulfing them both and transporting them to the edge of the city.


	46. Chapter 46

**2027 **_cont._

The glint off the top of the water as it pounded against the bridge's structure would have set the scene for a romanticised view if it had not been for the destruction that lay about them. The rise of the sun cast a spotlight over every inch of devastation that had occurred in the past year or so across San Francisco. Golden Gate Bridge, itself, was still undergoing repair. It had almost completely been restored, but today the machinery sat quietly on the banks of the shoreline by Fort Point Lookout while Wyatt and Bianca stood atop the pylons high above the city searching for their newest foe.

"How is," Bianca began, shifting her feet awkwardly as her heels caught the cracks in the metal, trying to find a stable spot to stand on. "How is this going to help us find them?"

"It's high enough away from all irritants for me to easily locate them," Wyatt explained.

Bianca apprehensively looked down at the road below them. "I don't know about this."

"It'll be fine," Wyatt reassured her. "She hasn't got anyone on her side who can find us."

Bianca glanced back to him, folding her arms and settling back as she watched him stand before the edge, positioning himself in an upright meditative pose before closing his eyes and lifting his head. Another minute or two passed as he continued trying to sense for them. Bianca noticed him stiffen slightly.

"Wyatt? What's wrong? Did you find them?" she asked. Wyatt screwed his face up, shaking his head as if he were trying to shake off a feeling. Bianca stepped towards him. "What is it?"

"It's too strong," he growled. "It's worse here."

"What is?" Bianca asked. She looked around quickly, noting whether there were any signs of danger, but they continued to remain isolated. "No-one's here. You're…" She trailed off as his eyes opened. His gaze shifted to her. The irises looked darker than normal. "Wyatt. Fight it."

"You're trying to blind me," he said to her.

"No. Don't let it take over you."

With a burst of energy she felt him push at her. She heard her heel snap and the echo of her scream as she fell back. Hastily she reached forward to grasp hold of something. Her hand came in contact with the edge of the pylon. Seconds later she felt warmth as a hand grabbed her other wrist. Eagerly she gripped his arm, her face turning up towards him as her breath and heart raced. She felt the scraping of her fingers along the hot metal as her other hand slipped. She glanced down, feeling as if gravity was pulling her towards the road for a very grisly death. Wyatt lowered himself down, now the only thing keeping her where she was.

"Wyatt," she pleaded. She felt his hand loosen around her and she gripped harder, trying to stop herself swinging as she looked back up to him. "Wyatt, please. Don't let me fall."

"You think that you're worthy to be saved?" he asked her.

"You did once," she reminded him. "Please. Don't let it do this to you. I love you."

He seemed to consider this for a moment with a dark and empty stare before opening his hand completely. She closed her eyes, her hand knocking the ridges of his palm as she slipped. The amount of concentration needed to shimmer herself out of danger did not come as plaguing thoughts prospered in her mind, telling her she was going to die. She felt air, the dropping sensation becoming disturbed as her matter drifted in a completely different direction. She opened her eyes as she felt warmth – not the wet, draining liquid that preceded death, but the comforting grasp of Wyatt's hand around hers. She was back on the bridge beside him. She was safe. He'd orbed her back, but who knew when he was going to change his mind again. Scared and upset she shoved his hand away.

"Bianca," he said softly. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as he dropped his face guiltily onto her shoulder. Her body went limp, complying with the touch, knowing he was wholly back now that the threatening tone had been lost. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. Please forgive me. I love you."

"How am I meant to believe that when you keep trying to kill me?" she queried.

"It wasn't me, I swear," he said, drawing back. "I found Veronica and her compatriots. They're near the eye. I must have accidentally locked onto it. I could feel it influencing me, elevating my anger, exacerbating negative thoughts… it's like breaking the wall of a dam, everything comes rushing out at once with too much force to control."

"We need to get rid of it," she insisted. "Where's the book?"

"Where it always is, but there's no time. We have to get to them before anything happens."

"I don't want it to take over you."

"Well I'm not going to destroy it first. It'll better our chances this way."

"You're playing with fire, Wyatt. You can't control something so volatile."

"If my parents can control The Hollow, and believe me that was a much stronger force than this, then I can manage it. I'm not going to let the Eye of Acrilya beat me."

Bianca stared at him resolutely. She knew no matter how much she fought him, tried to drum reason into him, he wouldn't listen. He would be determined to have his way.

She followed him down to the construction area. Empty of life, the machines sat silently like hollow shells of sleeping ghosts, sure to awake at any time with a groan and a roar. The dirt beneath them had cracked and shifted, leaving great canyons to plunge into around the site. Bianca surmised this had to have been caused by the earthquake, nowhere on earth would natural erosion have happened so quickly.

She stepped cautiously between two bobcats, pausing when she heard a tinkering sound – the echo of metal tapping metal in a taunting fashion. She could feel her heartbeat increasing, hairs raising off her skin like goosebumps as she looked around quietly, waiting for an ambush. There was no movement. She couldn't see anyone. She was beginning to think paranoia was getting the better of her. There was a crunch of rocks sliding across the dirt behind her and she spun, at the ready.

"I think that would be thwarting our purpose," Wyatt said, glancing down to the dagger in her hand as the point pressed into his abdomen.

"Hence why I stopped," Bianca returned smartly. "Did you find anything?"

"Not over there. I thought they would have surrounded you by now."

"For a public smackdown? I don't think so. You know I'm more mindful than that."

"Shh," he commanded suddenly. Glimpsing around, he pulled her down behind one of the vehicles, flattening his back against the wheel. "They don't sound very prepared for a rebellion."

"That doesn't mean they aren't," Bianca said.

Wyatt rolled onto his hands and knees, peeking around the edge of the vehicle. He pushed himself back to sit beside Bianca.

"They don't have any weapons," he remarked.

"That's because they can conjure them, remember? All Phoenix can."

"I don't think I need to be reminded that you and they are formidable opponents."

"Do you really believe that?" Veronica asked.

Wyatt whipped his head back in the direction of her voice only to discover that the witch wasn't addressing them. Her discussion with the Phoenix and other underworld representatives had simply elevated in volume enough for Wyatt and Bianca to overhear.

"The way I see things, he isn't helping us at all," Veronica continued. "You place so much assurance in the fact that he is a healer, that he is some almighty power who just so happened to be born the day magic died. But he's not indestructible. He's not a God; he's a witch with a good reputation. Who knows how much truth comes with that legend? You follow blindly as if he knows where he's going. He's no better than the rest of us. He certainly doesn't understand us. He doesn't see killing as an art form like we do. He doesn't see killing as a job like we do. He is the son of all that is good and solely views what he does as justice, as the right thing. How many of you suffered for his plight? How many of you have seen your homes and lives destroyed at his bidding? He is reckless and wanton, placing all his faith in the one person who continually betrays us. She brought Michael to his death and all of you into this slavery. Would you allow her to continue to influence him so that you may be further victimised? Or will you stand with me to oppose this injustice?"

There was a roar of support from those gathered around her. Defeated, Bianca dropped her head back against the side of the vehicle. Wyatt contemplatively drew his lips to the side as he listened.

"No longer shall we be misguided by the loins of men or traitorous harlots," Veronica continued. Wyatt looked to Bianca. "It is time to revolt."

Wyatt shifted his gaze to the digger and waved his hand. The controls moved, sparking it to life as it rolled towards the group.

"What are you doing?" Bianca asked as Wyatt watched it head away from them.

"I'm not going to allow her to continue degrading you like that."

Bianca gave a small, brief smile at his protective attitude. "You need to be a little stealthier or you're going to reveal where we are."

"You can't always hide, Bianca," he advised.

Standing, he turned and lifted his hands. The vehicle that they had been using for sanctuary telekinetically flipped into the air, bearing down on a number of Phoenix. The rolling bobcat at the same time managed to knock down another section of the group. Now alerted to his presence, Veronica turned and conjured a weapon, as did those still standing. Bianca quickly climbed to her feet, surveying the damage, feeling both frightened and furious at what he'd done – he'd wilfully exposed them and was blatantly showing off his powers to prove he was no second-rate made-up legend.

"I never claimed to be a god, but I'm a damn good witch," Wyatt said, striding forward and lifting his arms side by side in front of him. Continuing the motion, he circled up and over his head. Two demons in front of him found themselves lifted into the air and thrown over his form, crashing to the ground before Bianca. Apprehensively she took two steps back. "Don't try to tell me otherwise."

Clasping the dagger in one hand, Veronica lifted the other and sent an energy ball his way. The blast hit him in the chest, knocking him back.

"Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?" she called.

"Funny that. I don't see you following your own advice," he returned, sitting up. "Or is that kind of behaviour solely reserved for liars who plan to mutineer?"

Veronica lowered her hand with a scowl, lunging forward and hurling the dagger towards him. As Wyatt climbed back to his feet, he glanced up to see the weapon heading towards him. Quickly he raised his shield, the point of the blade making an audible clinking sound as it hit the barrier, the blue bubble flaring with sparks as the dagger fell to the ground. Veronica shimmered before him, scooping the blade into her hand and glimpsing up at him.

"You could have been good for something," she said.

"I waved that moment goodbye long ago," he said.

As he lowered his shield she shimmered back to her former position, a fair distance away from him so that she could pre-empt any attack he had to offer. Wyatt shook his head at her cowardice, lifting his hand and conjuring his own energy ball with a flick of his hand. With one throw he encouraged the others to do the same, only he was the target. He raised his shield again, knowing he could not continue to fight with this barrier in the way. He glanced back to Bianca to see her staring down at the two he had thrown at her feet. She still hadn't moved.

"Bianca, move!" he commanded. "Don't stand there frozen like a rabbit caught in a hawk's shadow!" Bianca glanced up to him. "You want me to piss you off?"

Bianca's jaw moved, but she couldn't get any words to come out. She was letting them attack him, and she was doing nothing to protect herself. They were going to both end up dead if she continued this. She heard someone shimmer behind her and the sound was enough to move her into action. She leant forward and reverse kicked, hearing her heel make contact. Spinning, she followed the move with another blow from her fist.

"Light blast you, you light-blinded orgone!" she heard someone call.

All of a sudden it became very bright. Bianca raised her hand to her eyes to shield them. Seeing she was in trouble, Wyatt lowered his shield and saw Veronica again taking aim with the dagger. At first he thought she was aiming at him, and smiled cockily when he saw she was way off, only to realise it was heading for Bianca. Orbing over to her, he grabbed her around the waist and orbed her out of harm's way.

"Are you alright?" he inquired, brushing her hair away from her eyes upon their landing. "Can you see?"

She blinked a few times. "Yeah."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked, his hand in front of her face.

"One… three… if you hit me with that fist I'm going to kill you," she said.

He smiled at her ability to joke around at a time like this, pleased to see she kept up with his changes, and pulled her towards him.

"I think it's about time I finish this. I want you to stay here, I don't want to see you hurt again," he said.

"Wyatt, no," she said. "Stay. Don't go back there without me."

He kissed her gently on the forehead. "I wish there was another way but there isn't. Either Veronica wins or I do, and I'd much prefer the latter."

"You don't have to do this alone," Bianca said.

"When this is all over, I want you to do something. Remember us," he whispered, softly pressing his lips against hers. "Remember that we found our way to one another, that we loved one another, that we tried."

He orbed away. Bianca lowered her head, heartbroken, summoning up the energy she needed to follow him. She wasn't going to let it end this way.

She arrived to see that the number had been greatly reduced. From what little she had done, and the vast amount Wyatt had defeated, it looked like an easier task for them to overcome. But they didn't count on those that were left. Slinking along the outer edge of the concrete mixer, Bianca peered around the edge to see Wyatt orb his trusted sword into his hand.

"That doesn't scare me," Veronica remarked. Wyatt lunged towards her and she successfully avoided his attacks, on occasion parrying them with her own weapon. She glanced off to her right. "You seem to forget who exactly is on _my_ side."

Another witch stood adjacent to them. He lifted his hands towards Wyatt as Veronica quickly pulled back. Wyatt looked with confusion at his sword as it seemed to bend like simple plastic melted by the heat. Drawing the handle back towards his body he felt it tug against him, then with a sudden force of power it flew from his grasp. His left arm followed in the same direction, and he felt with great pain his bracelet being ripped from his wrist. Crying out, he pulled his arm back towards his body, rubbing the rapidly forming mark that had been left in the metal cuff's absence.

"If you were a better leader you would have kept a roster of who exactly you've been capturing," the witch advised, holding his newly acquired metal materials triumphantly in the air.

Wyatt glanced towards the man but his vision suddenly became obscured by another – the same person he'd seen attack Bianca earlier.

"Sightburner take you, you over-ambitious son of a witch!" he called.

Wyatt's vision blurred and suddenly pain seared through his eyes. He fell to his knees, fingers clawing at his face.

"Wyatt," Bianca breathed.

Lifting her gaze towards Veronica, she shimmered towards her. This was her fault. She was the one to blame.

"Stop him or I slit you throat," she growled into her ear as she pressed the blade against Veronica's pale skin.

"Tsk tsk, your poor form and empty threats will get you nowhere," Veronica scolded.

Bianca increased the pressure and Veronica reached over, grabbing hold of her and flipping her over her shoulder. Bianca rolled onto her back to recover but instead felt the heel of Veronica's boot grinding into her midsection. Bianca tried to draw in a breath, feeling the ache spread.

"Pathetic. You're nothing but an empty shell," Veronica said down to her. She pouted, pretending to be empathetic to Bianca's pain. "Oh, don't worry, I won't offer you a chance to live so you can serve me. I can't promise you an easy death either. It's much more fun to do it slowly."

Collecting her thoughts, Bianca closed her eyes and shimmered herself away. Her hand tightly grasping the handle of the athame, she wasted no time digging the point into the eyes of the very witch who was trying to blind them. In a bloody mess the witch fell to his knees, light shining about him as his existence came to an end. The ground shook and Bianca lost her footing, falling to the ground. She saw in the distance what had once looked like dirt was now partially white. The disturbance around the area had become more severe. She glanced over to Wyatt. His face bore deep claw marks, his eyes open but looking back with a dead white stare. Two more approached him and took away the last fraction of consciousness he had been holding onto.

"No!" she shouted.

She pushed herself back to her feet, determined to finish this. More witches and demons came to attack her from the sides. With each punch and kick she felt like she was winning, one after the other sprawling to the ground and soon becoming vanquished. Bringing her athame down into another body and watching it become dust, she straightened and immediately felt something sink into her back. It was with a paralysing realisation that she understood her powers were being stripped from her body. The countless pain she had caused others was now being inflicted upon her. Her hand opened unwillingly, dropping the athame. She tried to fight the pain, focused everything into one point and brought her elbow back. She made contact with her target, and from the bellow that followed she knew it was Veronica.

"You… wench! Give up now!" she shouted angrily.

Bianca ignored her as she collapsed to the ground, scampering for the blade. Extending her leg, she swung around and knocked Veronica to the ground, twisting herself with the motion and bringing the athame down into her chest. Breathing heavily, she looked down into the face of the raven-haired Phoenix.

"I'm not the only one that hates you," Veronica spat.

"Feeling's mutual," Bianca mumbled.

The light left her eyes, a blankness appearing where hatred and jealousy had once been. Bianca knew she was dead. She knew that Veronica was yet another Phoenix who'd been added to her kill tally. They would never forgive her now. If they survived this, she was forever going to be hunted down by the Phoenix for the misdeeds she had done to her own kind.

With the little energy she had left, Bianca pulled the dagger from Veronica's chest and used one hand to crawl her way back in the direction they had taken Wyatt. Feeling nauseous, her stomach reeled further at the stench that reached her nose and the sight of smoke rising into the air.

"No," she whimpered.

Pulling herself across the ground, she tried to get to her feet and weakly fell back down. Again she tried to get closer until she saw the group that had dragged Wyatt away. They waved around sticks and cloths, all ablaze with flickering flames, tossing them forward euphorically. She saw Wyatt then, strung up against a large stake, fire surrounding him in what looked to be a mock-witch burning. His head lolled to the side and she knew he was not at all coherent as to what was happening to him. He was not going to be able to save himself. And she had no power to save and defeat all at once. The most she could hope for was that better life they had been told about. The best she could do was stop the eye.

She shimmered to Wyatt's apartment, falling to her knees upon her arrival as pain ran through her like wildfire. She wondered how she could have been so callous as to do this to Chris. Remembering what he'd died for, she set her sights on the door to Wyatt's bedroom and grudgingly moved forward. It was as if he had known that she would need the book. Instead of being hidden, it was right where she had first seen it, placed at an angle in the lower section of his cabinet. She pulled it out, the thickness between her hands providing some kind of reassurance. With a concentrated effort she shimmered to the Halliwell manor. The brothers had told her it was the nexus, the greatest point of power for good and evil. If any spell was to work, it would work here.

Upon her arrival the book slipped from her hands, falling onto the hardwood floor with a heavy crash causing the planks around her to vibrate and glass vials placed so neatly on nearby tables to clatter to the ground. She let out a whimpered sob at the failure she felt, lowering herself to retrieve the volume. Placing it on the dais, she opened up the heavy cover and looked at the pages hopelessly. The book was so thick, and there was no way that it was indexed for easy reference. She flicked through the pages until she came across the _Eye of Acrilya_. Skimming down the page she saw there was no solution. She hit the edge of the dais in frustration. Amanda had told her it was in here. She couldn't understand why there was no cross-reference to stopping the thing. Frantically she flipped through the pages until her head began to swim. Clutching the edge of the dais she steadied herself and took a few deep breaths. She couldn't give up now.

Thinking logically, Bianca tried to string all the pieces of vanquishing knowledge she had learnt together, looking for a guide. Eventually she remembered that blue was the key. She didn't know what was blue, but she knew it would help. Taking to the back of the book she worked her way backwards, glancing over various entries until finally her eyes fell upon what she needed.

**WITCH BALL  
**_A glass ball several inches across, usually blue, green, or violet, used to banish the evil eye and other forms of hostile magic. Some contain pins and needles to disperse negative energies, while others are empty._

That was all she needed to read. She looked about for the blue glass and found one on the shelf. She didn't know where to get the pins and needles from, but after much searching she came across a sewing box pushed behind a bed head, covered in cloth. She emptied the entire contents into the ball, using her powers to sear the glass closed. Dispersing so much energy, she was barely able to stand, but she knew she had to make one more trip. The glass in her palm, she shimmered back to the construction site on the banks of San Francisco bay.

She tried not to look at the ashes and charred flesh that had once been her lover. She could smell it enough to know how bad it had become. Instead she headed straight for the eye, for the thing that had ruined their lives, and stopped by the edge. It had no power to stop her, but its ability to increase her hatred only elevated her feelings in wanting it stopped. She cast the witch ball into the white, falling willingly as the ground shook in frustration.

**

* * *

****Current Day**

"Bianca!" Wyatt called. Bianca slowly opened her eyes, raising a hand to block out the piercing sunlight as Wyatt and Chris slid down the embankment. "Baby, what are you doing here? This isn't where we agreed to meet."

Bianca moved her hand aside and saw his figure hovering over her. Despite the fact he was dressed in good clothes, he still knelt on the dusty ground by her side. His long locks were neatly pulled back into a ponytail, and he was clean-shaven. Lifting herself, she scooped her arms underneath his, clutching the shirt and muscle on his back as she buried her face into his shoulder. Wyatt held her, smoothing a hand over her hair in a comforting gesture. Bianca lifted her head and saw his younger brother approaching from behind.

"Chris," she exhaled desperately, a wash of relief flooding through her. "You're here."

"Yeah," he said awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. "Wyatt didn't want to come alone."

"You make me sound like a coward," Wyatt said dishearteningly, turning his head to look at Chris. "If anyone was afraid to come here, it was you."

Chris scoffed, obviously in disagreement with his older brother. Bianca looked frantically towards the hole. It looked deeper. Fear struck her at the sight of it, but she couldn't remember why. In fact, she couldn't remember much of anything. Wyatt followed her gaze and glimpsed back to her worriedly. She shifted back in fright, as if she'd seen something move and it had spooked her.

"You seem awfully obsessed with that pile of dirt. Don't tell me you're turning into Jack Sparrow," Wyatt joked. She didn't laugh, she just kept staring. "It's not magical."

"Something was. Something there," she said distractedly.

"What?" he inquired. "What was there?"

Bianca's bottom lip quivered as she looked back to him. She caught it between her teeth and held fast, trying to prevent herself from crying over the struggle she was having with her memory. She didn't like being so out of control. She didn't like not being able to recall what she needed.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Okay, Chris, no more pirate movies," Wyatt chastised as he pushed himself to his feet. "Look what you did to her."

"It wasn't my suggestion," Chris countered, the emphasis implying he didn't appreciate Wyatt shifting the blame from himself.

Wyatt held out his hand to help Bianca up. She inspected the reddened skin, noting the scrapes along its surface, and looked up to him.

"How did you do that?" she inquired.

"Basketball," he replied simply.

"I thought someone hurt you," she said quietly.

"Only a cranky charge," he explained. Seeing she still wouldn't take his hand, he moved around her and lifted her to her feet. "Can you stand?"

"I'm scared, not an invalid, okay?" she snapped, viewing his actions as if he were suggesting she were completely helpless.

"Okay! I was just trying to help!" he retorted.

"Guys?" Chris interjected, waving his hands to make them aware of what they were doing.

"Sorry," Bianca apologised, hanging her head.

"Chris, take her back to the manor," Wyatt said. "I'm going to grab my attention-seeking charge and meet you there. I won't leave her like this. I can't try to work when I know she's frightened as all hell."

"Now he tries to be all valiant," Chris grumbled, walking towards Bianca as Wyatt orbed away. "Are you okay? You look kinda pale."

"I feel like something's missing," she said. She placed a hand on Chris' chest, looking up to him with a befuddled expression. Wetting his lips and noticeably uncomfortable he took a half step back to put some space between them. "Was there something between us?"

"No!" Chris cried, laughing uneasily. "I've got a girl. You should be focused on Wyatt. He's your fiancé."

"I know but… I'm just trying to get my head straight."

"Is it really that bad?" Chris asked sceptically. Bianca nodded solemnly. "Mom could make you some blueberry muffins to take your mind off it. I hear they're good for improving your memory."

"They are?"

"No, I just made that up," Chris said, smiling. "But Wyatt wants you to go to the manor so that's where we're gonna go."

Orbing himself and Bianca to the manor, Chris instantly sought out his mother, leaving her alone in the hallway. She looked around, noticing how the place seemed to feel more alive than she had expected. There were still toys scattered on the floor just inside the conservatory doorway indicating a young child had been present. _Yes, Mel, this morning,_ she recalled.

The front door opened with a loud click and Bianca turned to see Leo walk inside with a bag full of groceries in his arms. He almost felt like a stranger as she looked the old man over. The paper bag wavered as he tried to close the door.

"I'll get that," Bianca offered.

"Thanks," he said appreciatively, resettling the bag in his arm. He stared at her, noticing her reticence. "Bianca, are you feeling okay? I thought you and Wyatt were having lunch elsewhere. Don't tell me you two are fighting again."

"No," Bianca said. "He'll be here shortly."

She didn't need to say anymore, a twinkling of orbs announcing his arrival alongside a young girl whose blonde locks jutted out in a messy array from underneath her white baseball cap.

"You don't need to manhandle me!" the misfit in his grasp shouted, breaking free from his hold. Wyatt scowled, wincing as her clothes scraped his roughened hands.

"Dad, I believe you know Amanda. Amanda, this is my father, and my fiancé Bianca," he introduced. Chris and Piper appeared in the doorway. "And my brother, Chris, and my mother."

Amanda offered her hand to Bianca which she shook almost in a daze.

"Nice to finally see the girl he's so obsessed over," Amanda said.

"Have we met before?" Bianca asked, unable to shake the familiarity.

"No," Amanda replied with a shake of her head. She shrugged casually. "Maybe in another life."

"Anyone feel like muffins?" Piper offered. "I've got them baking."

With everybody moving towards the kitchen, Amanda leant forward and whispered in Bianca's ear: "You don't have to worry. Everything's the way it should be."

Bianca later sat on the couch, contemplating the statement. Amanda had spoken as if she knew something, but Bianca didn't completely understand.

"Here you go," Wyatt said, handing her a cup of tea and sitting next to her. Bianca didn't look at him, instead glancing back to Amanda before looking into the murky depths of her mug. Wyatt put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. "You know if there's something wrong, you can tell me."

Bianca sighed, dragging a finger around the rim of the cup. "I'm just frustrated with myself."

"Why?"

"Because I can't make sense of anything going around in my head. I don't even know how I ended up where you found me. Everyone seems to be okay except for me. Even your charge knows more than I do."

"She thinks she knows everything," Wyatt jibed. "What did she say to you?"

"She told me not to worry because everything's the way it should be."

"She probably just thinks you're OCD," Wyatt suggested. "You know she accused me of being a control freak before."

"You are," Bianca said, looking up to him and smiling a little. "Kind of."

Wyatt chuckled. "That's a lot of support from my fiancé."

"You know I'm only teasing."

"I think it's about time I got you back with some teasing of my own," Wyatt taunted. As Bianca sipped her tea he glanced towards Amanda and Chris in the dining room, seeing them laugh uncontrollably as the Jenga pile fell down again. "Looks like they're getting along famously. I don't think they'd mind looking after her if you feel like going home."

"That's a nice thought."

Taking her hand, he pulled her into the adjoining room behind him. Amanda had her fingers around a block of wood, squinting with concentration as she slowly pulled her hand back. Trying to be casual, but being none too subtle about it, Chris waved his fingers at the pile, dislodging the block below it. Wyatt and Bianca's entry signalled another crash.

"Hey, I was winning!" Amanda protested, glaring at Wyatt. "Why'd you do that?"

"Don't look at me. Your partner-in-crime likes to cheat in mortal games. He even changed the colours on the Candyland cards once," Wyatt said.

"Did you?" Amanda asked.

"For his benefit," Chris explained, although still looking rather guilty.

"Bianca and I are going back to our place so I can show her some things that might help," Wyatt announced. "You don't mind Amanda staying here?"

"Well I'm going to have to start my game again since it was destroyed," Amanda whined. She looked to Chris. "No cheating this time."

"Yeah, yeah," Chris agreed. He glanced up to Wyatt. "Just don't be long, okay? Cause Sam's going to be royally pissed if I don't show up tonight."

Wyatt nodded, orbing both himself and Bianca to their apartment. While he paid a visit to the bathroom, Bianca took the chance to look around. She noticed photos that were seated on the shelves, moments in time she could vaguely remember. Things didn't look as dark, dangerous and dismal as she was inclined to believe. Reaching out towards the frame she noticed the birthmark on her arm. She remembered her past clearly, remembered how much the Phoenix despised her. That feeling was strong and she was the only thing she was certain about.

Wyatt re-entered the room, his face freshly washed, his hair now out in long curls that tried to tangle around one another. He paused, watching her as he unbuttoned his shirt with tentative fingers.

"If you look carefully you'll see the Lightner Museum in the background," he said.

She looked at the photograph slightly confused, but smiled as the memory came back to her. "I wanted to move to Florida. It was so warm then."

"You remember the stained glass windows?"

"I remember the light…the reflections," she said. She replaced the photo and turned towards Wyatt. "Why do I get the feeling you've done worse than you have?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like you were bad," she said, slinking towards him. "Like you abused your powers."

"I try not to," Wyatt said. Bianca looked at him frankly. "So I have a little bad habit. It doesn't hurt anyone. Much."

"It might one day," Bianca said.

"Not as long as I have you," Wyatt returned, putting his arms around her waist. "I think it was St Augustine who once said _'Interfice errorem, diligere errantem'_."

"What's that?" she asked, raising her chin.

"Kill the sin, love the sinner," Wyatt interpreted. "And I am one sinner who needs to be loved."

Bianca giggled, shrieking as he lifted her up and carried her towards the bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot.

It is in moments of despair that we cling to hope, that we believe adherently in one thing that keeps us alive. In a world of danger and darkness there is always a light; no matter how small it is there. We should not lust for power, but for comfort and happiness. You do not need to defeat others, only yourself. Nothing conquers except truth and the victory of truth is love.

**THE END**

* * *

_**PERSONAL NOTE:** I just wanted to thank everybody who has stuck by me for the past year and a half while I was writing this fic. I appreciate your kind words and never-ending support, and it has helped spur me on in times when I felt I could no longer continue. Thank you to everybody who helped me when information or inspiration was required. I can not express the gratitude I feel at having all of you help me continue this until I finished, it has been an achievement and a life-changing experience that's very close to my heart. Much love to you all and I hope you'll continue to read my work in the future._


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